Stadium High School - Tahoma Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

Page 25 text:

THE. TAHOMA ianeirg W RUTH WILLIAMS Poetry Editor A PROPI-IECY lt's been work, work, work, From nine to half-past two, They loaded us down with home work It to0lE' fifteen minutes to do, And we've only had one holiday, Each whole long dreary week through. Oh, yes, indeed, it was awful, We can hardly wait to be free, But mark my words, in September We'll be lwaclf to talfe a P. C. We were quite sure in our first year, We never could stand it four, And when we attained our second, Were glad it was no more, But during our junior and Senior, From habit, we called it a bore. Oh, yes, indeed, it was awful, We can hardly wait to be free, But marlf my words, in September, We'll he lzaclf to talfe a P. C.. NADINE. SOULE., 'I3

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22 THE TAHOMA Von Glieb struck a few notes, then played on and on. As he played the boy realized that it was a masterpiece and that Steam would be famous. When Fritz von Glieb stopped, he seemed hardly to see Arthur. It is great, is it not? asked Arthur. Creat! Ah. yes-no, I would call it exquisite music which only the greatest pain and suffering can producef, the old man said at last. People will weep and the name of Carl Steam will be distinguished, but they cannot know the breaking heart back of it, or under- stand, because they did not know the lover of music. They heard someone come softly in and saw Hilda standing there. By her face they saw that something was greatly wrong. Girl! Your father? Where is he? asked von Glieb. He died yesterday at evening, Hilda replied, simply. Arthur looked bewildered at first, then great pity for Hilda, more than thought of Stearn, took hold of himg but the moment was not sacred with him as with the old Master. He stood with bowed head, his eyes full of tears, for he felt the same awe and reverence which Carl Stearn had felt years before, for he, too. worshiped music. and he now knew that Stearn was his Master. It's fierce, said Arthur. He didn't even know that his opera was real music. My friend, God so thinks best, replied von Glieb. One night, two years later, the opera The Breaking Heart, was pro- duced for the first time at the great theatre in Berlin. People wept at the beauty and sadness of the opera, yet they could not undrstand. In one of the boxes sat a young American and his wife. People pointed to her and whispered that she was the daughter of the composer of the opera, Carl Steam. With them was an old man, bent and grey. Von Glieb sat through the opera breathless and as one in a dream, then turned to the young woman and said, Carl Stearn's reward is now great. God so thinks best. X U y will fs rut X 'L of QQ 3'

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T H E. T A H O M A ASPIRATION ln its bed beside a fern, The lily bud was planted: Reaching upward it did yearn For a boon ungranted. Tender leaflets snugly furled, Nourished by the sunbeams, Soon unfolded to the world Future fame in day-dreams. Lo, it grew and grew and grew, To a height most noble, Till one day there came to view, A perfect flower-like opal. This opal, small yet pure and bright, Crown in the golden hours, Bursts on this Commencement Night, The whitest of flowers. Proclaiming by its whiteness, Its poise and its golden heart, The virtues in their brightness Which our class has won in part. We must constantly endeavor To be worthy of this dower, Which our High School, dearest ever, Has bestowed-from bud to flower. Now we leave the years behind, We must say farewell at last, For the mill can never grind With the water that has passed. RUTH A. WILLIAMS, 'I3