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

Page 194 text:

SAN LUIS VALLEY Wide, these Margarita Mountainsg A Open canyons, wide and deep Leading to San Luis Valley Then to eastward boldly sweep. Low they crouch, that o'er their shoulder Santa Rosafs head may rise Reaching for a dream-like vision Of the sea-reilected skies. Down the canyon runs a river, Luis called for kingly saint, Winter current bold and rapidg Summer stream with languor faint. Go to the valley of San Luis When the autumn morn is there, While the sun's magnetic furnace Seethes the aromatic air. For the Christmas holly's redd'ning Unplucked on the arroyo bank ' ' Where, ensnarled with rugged Willows Oily castor-beans grow rank. Here the larkspur, masquerader, Makes a shrubby hillside gay. Hangs thermanzanita shyly, And berries bright by mountain way. Jack Henry, A9 A DREARY LAND Stubby bushes, Cactus here, Yucca there And sage brush drear. Land of quiet, Unbroken night, Burning sun, Stars so bright. Deserted! bare! Heaps of sand, A Weary place, A dreary land. . Lloyd Austin, A9 One Hundred Eighty-eight

Page 196 text:

COWBOY SONG I am alone in the midst of the prairie. A myriad of stars shine high overhead. Tonight I am alone with my horse and the cattle With the sky for my blanket, the sand for my bed. I mind not the howling of wolves in the distance. I mind not the lizards, the snakes, and the heatg For I love the feeling of the wide open spaces. The prairie's my home, and it cannot be beat! Daisy Elejffonty, 149. ODE TO THE WILD HORSES A gallant horse stood on the plain, Flung to the wind was his flowing mane. His broad white back was large oi girth, Firmly he stood on the sweet, green earth. Waiting for his comrades of old, He flung to the wind his challenge bold, And bounded away with the toss of head, Wishing, wishing, for playmates long dead. Oh, that those horses, wild and free, Might on those rolling plains still be Racing with all the winds that blow, Like the wild horses of long ago. Betty Wf'arre1z, A9. CLIFFS OF THE BIG TUJUNGA Clillsl towering cliffs! Cliffs of red rocks, cliffs of yellow rocks, Cliffs of green mosses, cliffs of brown mosses, Cliffs with springs running into the river. Cliffs of the big Tujunga with a poem And a picture in every rock! Nancy Ryan, 119. One Hundred Ninety