University of Denver - Kynewisbok Yearbook (Denver, CO)

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Planting of the Woodbine. With fooling tlijif arc sad and yet arc gay. Wo plant tin sturdy woodbine here to-day. Wo plant It with n thousand hopes and fours. Wo plant It that In all the future year It may refresh and tiemitlfy. And last. We plant It that when college life Is past. A ml we are (one, the ('lass of ’!»!». Forever gone, this simple little vine Will keep our memory green. With purpose true We lay It at thy feet, dear Denver U.. Because our love, our hearts, are all with thee. Have ever l eeu. and shall forever Is . Take now the gift, and may kind nature’s care Convert It Into all that's bright and fair. And thou. O woodbine, helpless now and weak. But promising a glori ms strength, we seek To shrine our memories In thee. Thou must climb Far. far als ve. till In some future time. Thy tendrils will hold fast In close embrace The dear old school, nor ever yield their place. Then, when long years have flown and we are gray. And old. we'll come, some fair, bright Arbor Day, To stand upon this spot. And memory’ll fly To those wc«t Senior days long since gone by. When all the college world was at our feet; When we were young, and life was fair and sweet Strange faces will Is seen In all the hulls. Strange voices will re-echo from the walls. And we shall sorrow; we shall stand apart. And Ik forgotten. Then within each heart Will cotue In cadence sweet the undertone: Grieve not; you art remembered l»y your own.' We see the woodbine: far above It climbs; It tell us of the happy, far-off times Of 'DO. Its whispers seem to say: ■‘I've kept your memory green for many a day. The tempest I have scorned, the rain dolled; My glossy leaves are reaching far and wide O’er college walls. A stronger hold each hour I take on life. Not all the mingled power Of elements shall conquer me. My task In life I gladly do, nor ovou ask To havo It different. Bound these walls 1 twine In memory of the Class of ’90. May we not learn. O Class of 1W. A helpful lesson from our brave woodbine? For we. like It. must weather many storms; Must strive with life In all Its various forms— Must look above and ever higher rise To purer air, toward brighter, clearer skies. There may be grief in life, despair, retreat; We may have struggles, dire temptations, and defeat; But. like our woodbine, let us closer cling To all that’s true and noble. 'Twill but bring The quiet peace which In onr Joy. our pain. Will still endure through sunshine and through rain. And still of thee, our woodbine, do we take Another lesson. We must strive to make The most of life's brief hour. To seize to-day. To use Its moments ere they speed away. To lnls r on one true, firm purpose bent. And each with his own lot to he content. April 21. 1S«». MARY LINDSEY BARBEE. (Read by the author at the Senior Ivy Day Exercise .)

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Press notices. “The History of tin ClftMof Ninety-nine inn valimhh mhlition to my library. Knowing tin Class somowhnt personally I ran truly appreciate th rt rr»nl«l farts which an accurately, vividly and artistically portrayed.’’ The Chancellor. “We have taken great pleasun in reviewing the History of the Class of D0, and have been especially interested in the accounts of sufierior scholarship ami exemplary behavior recorded therein.” The Factlty. “To know them was to love them. “Baby.land” 11h» Pr» |w’ Journal.) The History of our predeoewors will forever be our guide in seeking such faun and honor as was theirs. The Cbktuby Class.” Our History Rhall be like that of Ninety-nine, for we an bound to the Seniors by invincible ties of brotherhood - and shall ever look to them for example.' The “Sophomore.” “1 Lives of gn at men all remind us we can make our lives sublime.’ We cannot fully express the help and inspiration which this great work has given to us. whose history is just begun. The 1902” Kazoo. For though our lip may breathe adieu We cannot think tin- thing farewell! J Wi§ saw a gate l»fuf» us o'er it gleamed In golden letters “ late. Our hearts were stirred. We bowed our heads and uttered not a word. For life, its duties far away we deemed We had not realized. But now it seemed As it our youth had Mown like winged bird And suddenly through silence deep, we heard •• Tia tins- to think and act you have but dreamed. Oh. (Taj« of Ninety nine in sheltered bay. How will you fare i ocean'a stormy breast? (io bravely forward, and pursue your way. With truth and honor do what's noblcwt. best. The mystic Future call you. warns you list! She softly whispers, ' Mace cyst hwa ist.

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Ch« Junior’s Soliloquy. To Ik or not to bo—that is tin question. Whether 'tis nobler In the mind to suffer For theft of reverend Senior's cap and gown. Or whether grief may vanish by imbibing From bottle labeled Poison. To die to fear No more -and by this death to say I end The terror and the awful fear of vengeance From righteous Seniors. Tell me. Fate of mine. Why was I tempted by these sombre trappings? Why did I seek to own this cap of wisdom? In waking dreams, by them I am tormented. I dare not venture far—for many a “cop Who's armed with justice and a heavy club May linger 'round the corner. In the court I see myself the prisoner of the Seniors With outstretched hands In desperate supplication -Before a judge who blights my young existence, And sends me to a damp and dreary dungeon Where I must dwell unknown, unloved, unpltled. To die—to sleep—but then perchnucv to dream. (For e'en in sleep these dreadful dreams may enter) A dreaded Is-lng—with wings ami hoofs and horns, Is ever beck'nitig me with two-pronged pitchfork— Oh. must I go with him? My cowardly deed Is ever with me. Look! I die from terror— A ghostly form approaches—near and nearer, In cap and gown—oh. shade of mighty Seulor! The torture is too great. Soph’mores. I warn you. Touch not the cap and gown. For by this very sin Hath many n Junior fallen. Pare thee well Life holds for me but terror, tribulation. Will death bring other ills I know not of? My courage falls me grave and reverend Senior All praise, all glory yours forevermore! The game is played and won—and you are victor— The Junior's little light grows dim— I drink your health! (Drinks poison.) sc