Thomas Starr King Middle School - Echoes Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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COME WITH ME To the country I love to wander On a springtime afternoon, Wlien the birds tell tales in music, And the wildflowers are in bloom. To me it seems like Heaven Away from the crowded town And my heart will sing in rapture As upon the valley I look down. The valley, oh the valley! Witlm its nooks and crystal streams, A shady hollow that seems to Whisper Of the wonderful things it dreams. So come with me to the country, To the country for a day. There we can pick flowers and Wander, There we can dream and play. Bernita England, B7 QUEEN OF THE MAY Queen of the May As she trips along, Stoops to pluck A tiny flower, A rose, A pink, Pale, Rose! Queen of the May As she sings a song, Cziresses the flower, The tiny flower, The rose, The pink, Pale, Rose! Juanita Axe, 449 COLUMBINE Skirting the rocks at the forest's edge, Swaying deeper in shadowy glooms, Witll a running flame from ledge to ledge A smouldering fire in her dusky blooms. . . . . Columbine! Jack Henry, .49 One I-I und red Sixty-live

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SPRING Spring is near. Spring is near. The birds and Howers will soon be here. The grass will soon be a pretty green And lovely things will soon be seen. Anna Brun A FAIRY BOLD . Spring is just a fairy bold, Wrapped in hues of green and gold Sprinl-:ling happiness around, Brightening up the cold dark ground. Dancing through the Helds of grain, Bringing summer time again, Trees burst forth in blossoms new Roses smile, they're happy too. Kathryn FV SPRING TIME Spring is coming over the hill With garlands in her hair. She brings with her sunshine and gladness And joy she spreads everywhere. Her lips are as red as the roses, Her eyes like the violets blue. Her skin is as fair as the lilies white And her eyes are sparkled with dew. She turns all the hills to greenness And tints the flowers anew And opens her paintbox of colors To brighten the sunset's hue. And when sweet Springtime leaves us And Summer takes her place I watch her go with sadness And longing on my face. Catherine J. Goo SPRING MORNING Spring comes tripping down the hill Past the stream and the old wood mill. Her garments are soft and Ileecy write. She scatters flowers in the morning light. Her hair is gold o'er her fleecy gown As she stoops to scatter thistledown. Roses and daisies bloom as she passes, And where'er she steps are tiny grasses. zberg, B7 ebb, A9 dsell, A8 Gloria Nieman, B7 One Hundred Sixty-four

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E51 ICE? Q1 6 fe? ' iii' C153 ,Gy Q R . U Q Q Q Q -Q1 C 'if 13231 Ii? 1232 ggi U, ggi fi? 'A iii' if? p E2 I' MQ 42214 153 f Q 5 . , K ffwim' 'bg SQ, I ,- fb I f.: ,mr A fig. .ia fre- ,ii A sm . . ma-Qwmfwsiff 0 Ml!! W W 'QQ' W li! W 31 :ACER 'VP YJQOIQD RAIN JEWELS I look from my bed through the Window Upon a be-jeweled world The trees are dripping with diamonds And the Howers are studded with pearls The grass is sprinkled with dew drops For the fairies to come and drink I know I'm happy- when the rain comes And the fairies are, too, don't you think? Lucille Kertman, Sk?-dx O H d y un red Spdng A9