St Josephs Academy - Academia Yearbook (Portland, ME)

Page 31 text:

The Chapel at S. I. A. Before we begin our daily study, Or start our evening's fun, We visit the Lord in our chapel, Where He loves to have us come. C is for the Chapel, from our homeroom across the way. H is for the hymns we love to sing on each Sunday. A is for the angels, who dwell there adoring Him. P is for the prayers we say in the evening light so dim. E is for the entrance, revealing our chapel's charms. L is for the vigil lights, beckoning us to His arms. Taken all together They spell C H A P E L So dear to the hearts of the girls of S. J. A. RUTH CONLOGUE, '56 Peace Peace! What is it, where can it be found? Could a man gain it by seeking the whole world 'round? Can it be held or is it intangible? Can we believe in it, or is it incredible? Be humble, close your eyes in silent prayer And behold! You will know that peace is thereg For peace lies not in battle, or conquest of the sod,- But like everything else beautiful, Peace lies in God. PAULINE LEBEL, '54

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SPRING Of all the seasons in the year The one of spring is held most dear For now the birds sing bright and clear To bring all hearts the best of cheer. The earth that once was dark and cold Is sprayed with flowers blue and gold In every perfect bud is told The hearts' desire of artists bold. The sun now shines on all the trees To give new life to their green leaves. The blossoms of the apple trees Perfume with sweetness every breeze. But why does spring from day to day More beauty add to her display? To answer this what does she say? For Mary's month, the month of May. NANCY CONNEEN, '54 SEASONS First comes winter Cold and bleak, Next comes spring-time Soft and meek. Then comes summer Bright and gay, And autumn next in full arrayg But most of all I like these three- Summer, spring and fall for me. CARLENE PICARD, '54

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FEBRUARY When study hour is over, We hear the lirm command, Each girl who has a pair of skates Skate! Skate! And don't just stand. We go downstairs reluctantly, We lace our skates right to the top. But once we're sailing on the ice, We know we'1l never want to stop. RUTH CONLOGUE, '56 THE FLIGHT OF THE SKIER He soared down the hill, On his face felt the breezeg No more exciting time Than when on his skisl The wind whistled wildly Through the snow-laden trees, While the skier rode by With the greatest of ease. At the end of the trail Breathless from his ride, The man on the skis H Took the cheers all in stride. ELAINE BoRnUAs, '54 ODE TO A FISH A fish that lolls and plays all day And never once offers to pay, A fish that may in summer dare To swim swift currents without care, Who thinks of nothing but himself But never seems to gain much wealth,- I think that I shall seldom dish' A plate as tasty as a fish. MARY A. 'BROWN, '55 E! WG 4' R 'v E if fl' . fl if A f Q 5 oW' ggi- oo