St Matthews High School - Samascript Yearbook (Conshohocken, PA)

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Parting Today beneath bright s ies of spring My heart is wearing rue, For here a little hour ago I said good-bye to you. We may not share tomorrow love, But we had yesterday; And I shall treasure joys we new In this our fleeting May. The brilliance of a rainbow Far flung across the s y; And in the tranquil twilight The wood dove's mournful cry; The sheen of crystal dew drops Flashing from hill and plain; And fields of fragrant clover Trembling after rain; The far off song of church bells Lulling the boisterous breeze; And opal shades of evening Falling on restless trees Are mem'ries that will bridge the miles Though you have crossed the sea; And in the garden of my heart You will I{eep tryst with me. Helen Maguire '42 Goodbye I will not write about the war. But ma e my little rhyme A monument, however poor. To ever fleeting time. How silently the hours pass; How lovingly we treasure The baubles in this earthly house We've built for our own pleasure. How quietly we slip away When time's brief reign is done To find beyond life's darkest hour That day has just begun. Teresa Marie O’Connor '42 Spy Wednesday Spy Wednesday in Jerusalem And people roaming 'round. Were searching streets, and lanes, and roads. In hope that Christ be found. A day in nineteen forty-two— A dar forbidding day; The way was cold, and damp, and raw, 'LJeath s ies so grimly gray. I heard a nocl(ing at my door, A sound both slow and wea ; A lonely beggar stood without With aspect sad and mee . Into my house, this beggar came, Who had not where to go; He ate the bread and meat I served, TJor told me of his woe. As day sped swiftly on to dar , The stranger sought to share My household tas s—he built a fire— He helped me mend a chair. And as he bade farewell to me. And passed into the night. The peace that filled my humble home Was li e a radiance bright. Spy Wednesday on my calendar, I wondered could it be, That He whom all the world once sought. Had spent the day with me. Joseph Vincent Reilly '42 Roads Earth’s roads sweep across the mountains And twist to the valley’s end And over these winding highways A stream of pilgrims wend. Some wal along gay and carefree, And some stumble on through woe; But all at last reach the narrow gate Through which each man must go. Doris Reed '42 THE MIRROR Twcnty'four

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Our old black Diana's hanging' up the wash. And a colorful array it is, by gosh’! Blue overalls on the hedge are flung, And gramp’s red shirts on the line are hung; The baby's frocks in a snowy row Hang close to blouses of indigo; And yellow skirts and magenta smocks Are pinned beside rows of bright green socks. How she's shadin' out her carnation slip. Oh! she sure does work at an awful clip. Wash day comes but once a week. Then the poles begin to squeak; The motor hums and bangs and howls, And water swishes through the tow’ls; The engine slows down; it soon will die; Diana looks around with fretful eye And I know that it's time to get out of here. Because if I don’t, there'll be work I feaT Francis Hoy '42 Departure Tread lightly, if you go tonight, You may awake the rose. Speak softly, little birds may hear— Our quarrel they’ll disclose. Violin in Softly The poignant strains Of an old xriolin Sweep through the tranquil stillness of The church. THE MIRROR Perhaps the twinkling stars will see The pain within my heart— Go quickly, lest they let you know That I but play a part. Marie Entenman '42 Church And as The melody Springs from its wooden heart, My soul once more is filled with joy And peace. Helen Macuire '42 T wenty-three

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Fickle Nature Entreaty Poets have lauded Nature’s moods. Her beauty and her splendor; Have sung of trees and wind and stars In verses soft and tender. And I have read of dreamy broods, That through the woodlands trickle, But I am firm, when I contend That 7Nature’s way is fickle. For who can tell me why the breeze That gently isses clover. Will turn into a hurricane And blow an oa tree over! Or why the rain that puddles up The fields for thirsting squashes. Will wait until the work is done, Then rudely sprinkle washes! Ho, no my friend I still declare Though Mature is beguiling, You cannot quite depend on her, No matter how she's smiling. Harry Cassel ’42 Disill usion I've often seen the shadows. Take leave of moonlight beams, And watched the little pixies. In my midnight summer dreams. And once I strode out hoping. To catch them at their play. But only saw the twinkling stars. Chasing them away. Ella Marie Fondots '42 My Lookout My window is my lookout. At night from it I see A world of magic people. Whom no one knows but me. They live in fairy castles. Beyond the moon and stars; They serenade the breezes. With silver-stringed guitars. They play along the milky way. Until the night is done; Then through the door of daylight, They tip-toe one by one. Catherine Shaffer '43 THE MIRROR Have we loved in vain, my dear? Can’t we brave the weather? Strange, the way is hard and long When we’re not together. I remember other days Filled with joy and gladness; They were happy times for me— How they bring me sadness. Wait! and listen to my plea Do not let me mourn here; Take me with you all the way To the end of life, dear. Marie Entenman '42 Spring The angler starts to shine his rod; The earthworm trembles ’neath the sod; The robin builds its dainty nest; The possum wakes from winter rest; The trees put on their dress of leaves; The swallows nest in dusty eaves; The meadow lark begins to sing— Of course, you're right—the time is spring. William Johnson '43 Life I dream of wars and dragons bold. And chariot wheels of solid gold. I dream of castles in the air, And perfumed ladies, tall and fair. I dream of knights with dashing steeds, Who worship me with noble deeds. I dream and dream and wish and wish— Meanwhile, I slowly dry each dish. Ella Marie Fondots '42 T wenty-five