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

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Young Love He held my hand and kissed my cheeks softly.....sweetly. He wrote me love notes every week: printed........neatly. For quite some time 1 lived in Heaven; I was six....my beau was seven. Ruth O’Bryan, ’44 Fairy Tale saw a pixie. Beside the brook; And vowed to catch him By hook or crook. So off I hastened In swift pursuit. But he was warned by A wise otcfs hoot. He ran so fast across the stream, I did not know uthere next to look; Then little brother went to sleep And I put down his fairy book. J. McFadden, ’45 Springtime It is springtime in our valley, And the sun peeps o’er the hills, Gleaming with a cheery radiance As it shines on daffodils. Crocus heads of joy and gladness, Dot the green of sylvan dells; And the bushes by the river Hang out gold forsythia bells. Cherry blossoms pink and fragrant. Lean across the garden wall; Yellow sprays of bright genista Groiv beside the hedges tall. But I sit alone with memories ’Neath the old magnolia tree; Whiled I dream of yesteryear, dear When you wandered here with me. Carolyn Ruser, ’43 Modern Design Grandmother called on us today Driving a brand new Chevrolet; Smartly attired in skirts to her knees. Blew through the house like a mountain breeze; Struck a match on the sole of her shoe; Filled the air with the smoke she blew; “I’m off to the shore for a week” she said, “Don’t call me up unless someone’s dead.” I wish that my grandma was old and gray; Sat in a rocker and sewed all day; Wore gingham aprons and snowy caps; And baked us cookies and gingersnaps; Cured our hurts with a kiss or two Just as grandmothers used to do. Let’s hope that the future will make of me The kind of old lady I’d like to be. Vera McPhilomy, ’45 THE MIRROR T wenty-jour

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Nocturnal Scholar The moon, an inquisitive maiden. Crept through the schoolyard fence; And glided across the dusty bricks. Heedless of consequence. She peered through the library casement Into the quiet gloom; Then stepping across the ivindotv sill Drifted into the room. The books lay asleep in the shadoivs After a weary day; She rudely awoke them from their dreams Then teasingly slipped away. Ruth O’Bryan, ’44 Dreaming I love to sit and watch the sky, While fleecy clouds go drifting by; I dream of being way up there Without a trouble or a care. I’d walk upon the mist by day; And help God put the sun away; And then I’d light the moon and stars, And fret the dark with silver bars. I’d ring the chimes in lofty spires; I’d harmonize with angel choirs; And when with travel I was through, I’d ride a rainbow back to you. Peggy McGrath, ’45 Forest Slumber Swaying grasses, silvery waters. Faerie lanterns at my feet; In my forest camp I slumber Far, far from the city street. ’Neath a blanket made of moonbeams Through the starlit night I dream; Till the elfin kiss of morning Wakes me with the sun’s first gleam. Marie E. Lavan, ’44 THE MIRROR Princess Night Princess night has come to our valley; She is dressed as a lady of old; In robes of imperial splendor. She’s a vision of beauty untold. Her blue gown is studded with stardust; The moon—a jade clip in her hair: And over her shadowy shoulders Is a mantle of pale moonbeams rare. Though the night is as ancient as time is. Youth eterne in her dark eyes gleams; Serenely she rules through the ages In the mystical kingdom of dreams. Marjorie DeStefano, ’44 Twenty-three

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 4 No Regrets Old Man reposing in the sun Are you glad your work is done? Or do you long for your lost youth? Speak up, old man, and tell the truth. The old man pondered for a while. Then slowly answered rvith a smile; “I do not yearn for yesterday; Time in its flight 1 would not stay. For me, the battle’s almost won; For you, the strife has just begun; I’ve had my share of joy and sorrow; Now I await the great tomorrow.” Mary O’Connor, ’43 Lament Oh saddened, weary, worried tree. To think what winter did to thee! He turned thee black and made thee ill. And left thee lonely on the hill; But do not worry; he will pay. When lovely Spring returns this way. Rose Sirchio, ’43 Winter The hills In robes of snow Stand silently before A court of moon and stars tonight Alone. Catherine Shaffer, ’43 Street Light Streets wet With silver rain Reflect the light in rays Of endless golden streams that die At dawn. Edward V. Fineran, ’43 THE MIRROR Tabby For hours he stretches in the sun. And sleeps until the day is done; At night he sings a lonesome tune To serenade the yellow moon. Some days he is too bored to eat, And prowls the halls on restless feet; Then looking through the window pane, Sees sirens beck’ning in the rain. For weeks he will remain away. But, when we think he’s gone to stay. Foot sore, hungry, and so shabby Straggles in our vagrant “Tabby.” Mary O’Connor, ’43 Fickle Spring whispered to the dancing brook That she was on her way; Then all the flowers smiled and donned Their very best array. The daffodils and violets Wore gold and purple gowns; And crocuses and hyacinths Put on their bright new crowns. Then fickle Springtime changed her mind As is a woman’s right; And Winter buried every flower Beneath a pall of white. Peggy McGrath, ’45 America At My Door From my doonvay in the morning, I see the wooded hills. And hear the magic melody, That from the forest thrills. The river flows with liquid grace. Past birches on the shore; O, the beauty of America, Lies at my cottage door. James Gordon, ’44 T wenty-five