University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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14 THE REDWOOD A DEAD LOVE Farewell, I said to my dearest friend, Farewell, for we must part, And I took his hand from out of mine, And love from out my heart; And I turned and walked no more with him, And I tried to heal the smart. Then I found me other friends to love, And I sought their love in turn, Yet my heart was still an empty void, Nor ceased for love to yearn; For a wound within its inner core, Forever there did burn. Then I cried, Old friend come back to me, Come back for there still is room, And I cast all other love away, But I could not cast the gloom; For a dead love whispered to my heart, My love is in the tomb. Senior.

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THE REDWOOD 13 Mum ' s the word, trust me, and so help me Heaven if a word escapes me. Any feller kin keep a brave man ' s secret. The next day the thieves were spied, and then began the merry chase, men after men, striving to take each other ' s life placing naught on its value. Charley ' s horse was the fastest and he was soon in the lead. They were gain- ing on the thieves and all would soon be over. There were three pursued and five pursuers. They closed now and the shooting began. One of the posse fell and his horse rushed madly off across the hills. Charley was riding swiftly on to close quarters; he slowed his horse up now and placed his hand on his shoulder. He heard some one galloping toward him and turning, saw — Joe, his old chum, — the latter had his revolver drawn. Their eyes met for an instant and each read a deadly in- tent in the eyes of the other. Quickly the thief leveled and fired, the bullet grazed Charley ' s arm. Quick as a flash Charley ' s pistol was out and before the thief could fire again — bang! and he reeled in his saddle then fell to the ground. Charley looked to see if any one needed his help, but one of the other two had been killed and the third severely wounded and a prisoner. He dismounted, went over to his old friend, knelt down beside him. — He was dead! — I ' m sorry, he said, that I had to kill, and my friend too; but, I did my duty and God will forgive. Good bye, Joe — Good bye. He went to his horse, mounted, and rode slowly away. Ivo G. Bog an ' 08. IN SANCTUM ALOISIUM LILIA MA.NU GERENTEM Haec quae virgineis nituntur lilia culmis, Unde verecundas explicuere comas? JVon generant similes Taestana rosaria lores, JJec simili (Pkarius messe superbit ager, JVon haec purpureis mater Corcyra rosetis, Nee parit aequoreis pulsa Carystos aquis. Cum nullas habeant natales lilia terras, Quis neget a casta lilia nata manu? Special Latin

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THE REDWOOD 15 ' THE POET PRIEST OF THE SOUTH ' The subject of this little sketch, Father Abram J. Ryan, is but a minor light in the firmament of American Poetry. It is good, however, to stoop at times to the study of composers of an inferior degree, for as Father Ryan him- self has said: Betimes The grandest songs depart While the gentle, humble and low-toned rhymes Will echo from heart to heart. They have many things worthy of our admiration; nay, in some particular points they may surpass those whose general qualities win them immortality. Moreover, by their palpable defects they teach us negative lessons, which the masters, because of their perfection, are incapable of imparting. Before considering Father Ryan ' s poems, let us first briefly sketch his life. The exact date and place of his birth are as yet unknown. According to some he was born at Norfolk, Va., in 1834; according to others at Hagerstown, Md., in 1836; while it may yet be proved that he was a native of Limerick, Ireland. His deep sympathy for the persecuted sons of Erin, which in many of his poems he manifests as strongly as the Irish Bards themselves, is a strong point in favor of the last opinion. The first reliable information we have of him is that he entered the schools of the Christian Brothers at St. Louis, Mo., at the age of seven. By the hands of these celebrated teachers and guardians of youth were sown the seeds of Chris- tian piety which bore so lasting a fruit. For many years he served as acolyte on the College altar. He loved the lights, and flowers and incense, the music and prayers, but above all the still solemn presence of God. His vocation soon manifested itself and waxed strong; and at seventeen years of age be parted from his mother and brother to enter upon his priestly studies in the Eccles- iastical Seminary at Niagara, N. Y. After six years of study, marked by dis- tinguished success, he was ordained and sent back as a Missionary to the South- ern States. Records of him during this period, owing no doubt to the scattered and poor condition of the co untry parishes at that time, are very scarce. He springs into full view only at the outbreak of the Civil War, when he was appointed army chaplain in the ranks of Robert Lee. The events of the five terrible years that followed, drew from Father Ryan some of his best poems. After the war he was stationed at Nashville, then at Clarksville, Tenn; afterwards at Augusta Ga. In 1870 he was made pastor of St. Mary ' s Church, Mobile, Ala., the last scene of his fervent minis- trations. Of this beloved retreat he sang: