St Francis Xavier Academy - Xavier Yearbook (Providence, RI)

Page 27 text:

THE FRANCESCA its many roads, where we sadly look about us, each one vainly endeavoring to choose her several way. We stand on the threshold of another world. “It is the unknown and the unlimited that still appeals to us—that something behind the dawn, beyond the sunset and far away athwart the black line of the horizon, that is forever calling, calling and beckoning to us to go thither.” Tremblingly we regard the future. Oh, that we could return once more and puzzle our brains over salts, bases and metals! But no, we cannot retrace our steps. The laboratory is closed to us forever. This certainly is the climax of our school lives. The parting knell has already tolled its mournful sound. Only a few days remain and then we must leave our beloved Alma Mater to return nevermore. With Curiace we ask: “Quels adieux dirai-je? Must it be Farewell? Good-bye? Ah, no! “Adieu! that is the word for us, 'Tis more than word—’tis prayer; They do not part who do part thus, For God is everywhere.” MARY MONICA o’HARE. 23

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THE FRANCESCA turned to Kansas City,—her beloved L topia. Did I say another? Alas! yes. September told us that our loved Anna might not tarry long. Soon site, too, had gone. As a consolation, for so it seemed, we received another addition to our class. But the vacancies left by our departed ones still remained vacant. Who could fill their places? we ask, and echo answers, “Xo one.” Three years have flown, and we are again assembled in the loved classroom. Everything is the same but it has a deeper meaning for us now. Are we not the seniors, the so-called lucky seniors, the envy of the lower grades? How they long to reach our height that they may forsake books and work for ever. But how differently we regard our station. What would we not give to have one more year before us! Would we reverse the order of things? Our religion teaches us to say: “Not my will. O Lord, but thine be done.” Rather he oculos suffusi lacrimis” over Aeneas and his wanderings than change the course of events. What glorious prospects lay before us and what ideals we had formed! Although we endeavored to make this year memorable for its perfection, still we can count many failures for many times have we fallen short of our ideal. What has been attained can best be estimated from the record we leave behind us. O year, witness of our joys and sorrows! Our joys—among them the Wednesday conversations when, during two hours, we enjoyed a pleasant ’ar cr vons with our French teacher, Miss Thompson. As for our sorrows, they can be summed up in that one word, Latin, when introduced with such questions as these: ‘‘Who opened the gates of Troy?” “When were they opened?” ‘‘When did the Greek enter the city?” Trivial these may seem, but I beg of you speak not unless you have had experience. Many times we retired from the library (where our Latin period was passed) in despair; but the future lay smilingly before us and success was ever beckoning us onward. Onward we did go, ever full of hope, though sometimes the way was rugged and dreary. Onward! ever onward ! and we finally reached the summit of Parnassus, with 22

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THE FRANCESCA CLASS VOEM. The day has come, the parting hour; Oh would we had the magic power To just reverse the joy and pain. And have our four years o’er again! The glad four years! our years, our own; They on too fleeting wings have flown; And we, a sad and tearful band. Before the unknown future stand. We have known joy, we’ve tasted deep The pleasures which high school days keep: Each lesson was a scene of zest, Each duty but a sweet behest. We’ve been together day by day, We’ve said the much we had to say; We’ve known each other through and through. In studious and in social view. We’ve loved our teachers, praised their law, Revered them, too. but not with awe: We’ve dearly prized Saint Xavier’s School,— Oh may our lives go by its rule! Oh, farewell, Alma Mater true! Farewell, a long farewell to you! Adieu, our schoolmates cherished dear; We envy you your coming year. Farewell each dear, familiar spot,— The schoolroom, classroom, garden-plot! Our hearts their grateful love can tell In only one sad word—Farewell! 24 HELEN TERESA CALLAHAN.