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Page 51 text:
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T H E A U R O R A Forty-three ILLUSIGNS Some think that it's a bore to go to school, To study and recite and obey the rule, To wear long sleeves and be quiet in the hall, They think that school's no fun at all. But isn't it fun to write long themes, Or put into words your fairy dreams? And what about French with its twist and turn? At least it's fun, just to try and learn. And Latin isn't always hard and dry For you can make it fun if you just try 3 Just pretend it's a riddle of some kind, Then work it out with an eager mind. But the study of Spanish surpasses all With its Buenos tardes, Hermana que tal? Or Hasta la vista or Muy bienv 5 If you'd try this you'd like school then. The hater of chemistry must, in truth be crazed, For the wonders of science makes one amazed, The ions and atoms and molecules too, And think of the knowledge you have when you're thru. And what fun there is in gaining this lore! When we learn a bit we want to know more, For its fun galore to experiment with things We really feel sad when the old bell rings. Of course, domestic science is loved by all, That is, if the cake or the pie doesn't fall, Now, history is liked no matter what day But the day it's liked the best is the holiday. Geometry is thought by some to be a bane, They think that algebra makes pressure on the brain, Of course, they're pessemists who think that way, They'd think these fun if Oh, I can they'd say. It's hard to tell whom singing pleases more, The ones who sing, or those outside the door, So go to school and keep back the sigh, For school's a joy to all who try. -Marcella E1'nsdo1jH', '24
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Page 50 text:
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Forty-two THE AURORA THREE WAR POEMS Probably the three best-known poems written during the late war are Joyce Kil- mer's Rouge Bouquet, John McCrae's In Flander's Field, and Alan Seeger's I Have a Rendezvous with Death. The author of each was killed in action. The three poems deal with the subject of war deaths, but the keynote of each is different. The author of Rouge Bouquet looked at death from a spiritual plane, and death for such a noble cause held no terrors for himg his faith enabled him to picture it as the shin- ing gateway to a more perfect life. There is a note of prophecy in Alan Seeger's poem. He speaks of an engagement with Death, an engagement looked forward to with certainty and a touch of dread, but one that was not to be broken. When spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous. The author of f'In Flander's Field places himself among the dead, who, falling, throw the torch of freedom to those who are to take their places in the ranks of battle. It is a solemn call from those who were the first to meet the enemy's advancing line, and sacrifice their all In Flander's Field, to those who should follow their noble example of devotion to duty. IRENE FEARON, '26 MARGUERITE HARRIS, '26. TO ROSE IN HEAVEN Little Rose Kilmer had spent but five short years in this world when God called her to Him, on the ninth of September, 1917. Her sweet pure soul had already flown to the gates of Paradise before Father Garesche heard that she was seriously ill. The news that his little friend had died came as a great blow to him, but after the sorrow of missing her had been softened by time he wrote To Rose in Heaven. In this poem Father Garesche asks Rose to tell him of the joys of heaven and of her welcome there. Had the beautiful angels come to put the flower of her soul in God's Golden Street to bloom? Had the little cherubs waited by the Gate for the coming of another flower and clapped their hands in glee? Did Heaven's Queen, Mary, come forth to welcome little Rose? But most of all he wanted to know how she had been wel- comed by the King. But oh, Most, most I crave to know How He came forth to find you, how the street Sang with His hurrying feet, The lit, adoring air was all aglowf' Perhaps God called Rose to Him just in time while her wondrous beauty was in its prime, and the fragile, tender bud had not yet been seared by contact with the world. In heaven all the beauty, pent in her sweet bud of frail humanity, burst into bloom and mirrored her Savior's glory. Time was when the kind priest could have told Rose of the troubles of this world, and warned her against temptations. But Rose in Heaven has seen God and found true happiness. J esus' soldier might now ask humbly for a crumb of her knowledge. DOROTHY STRAUB, '26.
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