Vergennes Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Vergennes, VT)

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BLUE AND WHITE DAY IS DONE Slowly the dying sun slips behind the mountains, as a gold coin would slip into the bank. The sun’s ruddy glow touches each fleecy cloud turning it a delicate pink like a rose. The cows slowly make their way to pasture and as they go, their shadows grow longer, for now the last rays of sun are touching the earth. The whole countryside seems content to submit itself to the demure tranquility of Evening. Then the cloak of night wraps itself about the earth, and with it come the little heralds that go from tree to tree whispering, “Day is done.” Etta Van Ornum, Class ’40 SPRING Spring always brings such a wonderful refreshing feeling like a cool drink to a thirsty man on a hot day. The buds begin to peep out from their winter’s nest as a new born chick stepping from its shell. The sun sheds its golden rays to give the pussy-willows’ furry little body sufficient heat to appear in full array. The fast melting snow runs down the road like so many thousand rivulets winding along their course. The wind makes you want to run and roam so the breezes can play through your hair. Thus spring comes and goes like the passing of a phantom. Dorothy Reed, Class ’40 ALONE Having finished my work for the evening, I sat on the back steps awaiting the return of my father. As I sat there alone, I could hear the chorus of the peepers doing its nightly practice and occasionally the guttural croak of a bullfrog down at the brook. The horizon, barren except for the silhouette of an old house, long ago vacated, made me think of the poem, “The lone wolf sits on the world’s far rim and he howls and it seems to comfort him.” When my father returned, soft warm rain came with him. But now if I should sit on the steps at twilight, yes, I could hear the peepers and the croak of a frog, but also the distant rumble of the approaching train, a piercing shriek, and the rumbling slowly receding into the night, then the flashing headlights of a motor as it roared past. The progress of man hath marred the beauty of nature. Frances Husk, Class ’42 PAGE THIRTEEN

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VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL queen, their knees shaking and their teeth chattering. Here are the gold pieces, dears. What do you plan to do with them, may I ask ? ” “I am goiifg to buy mother an Easter gift and Sue a new dress so she will always be as beautiful as you. If there’s any left I’ll save it,” stoutly declared Nicky, sneezing violently. Betty Fifield, Class ’41 CONTRAST MORNING With the first signs of the departure of the night’s darkness, there were a few faint streaks of colored light visible in the eastern sky. Individual objects came into view as the light’s intensity increased and a delightful, fresh breeze blew in from the distant sea. holding in it a trace of salt. The freshness of the morning was invigorating and spurred us on to our pleasurable walk. Ah, the colors in the sky became more vivid and their beauty made us halt to marvel inarticulately. Suddenly the sun, in’ all its glory appeared over the distant snowcapped mountains and shed its brilliant, strong beams on the dew-covered grass, making the tiny dew drops shine like gems. In yonder tree and bush the birds began to twitter and a cock in the farmyard of one of the valley farms crowed. Morning had come! THE NIGHT Beautiful, velvety darkness pervaded all. The freshness of the gentle spring wind felt like the caress of a lovely hand. The moon was slowly piercing its way into the eastern sky, with a beam of purest light following in its wake. The thickly growing trees were beginning to form an intricate pattern of shadow and light on the smooth surface of the road. There was nothing frightening or smothering about that darkness, only a feeling of beauty in the night. PAGE TWELVE

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VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL PAGES FOR POETS THEN IT’S SPRING Soon the snow will all be gone, The dry brown grass will disappear. Wild flowers will bloom in woods and fields, And robins and bluebirds will be here. Blue violets with hearts of gold Will peep 'neath canopies of ferns. Pale Mayflowers will then unfold. And the brown wren to her nest return. The peepers in the reedy marsh Will nightly pipe their chorus shrill, And he who walks through woods at night Mav hear the lonesome whip-poor-will. Lillian Husk, Class '40 SPRING At this time of year, Spring is nearly here. Spring is up in the sky. And robins passing bv. Spring is such a treat. No snow in the street. No dampness in the air. And warmer everywhere. Flowers and buds bursting. Green grass is thirsting, And though trees are in bloom. Yet spring can’t come too soon. Spring beautiful days. We’re in countless ways Glad to see you so near. We welcome you right here. John Beniamin, Class ’43 SNOWBOUND MARCH The snow fell gently to the ground; The world was hushed, no earthly sound. 'Twas time for birds and springtime cheer; Yet .all the world was gray and drear. Harder and harder fell the snow ; Fiercer and fiercer the wind did blow Till drifts piled high and formed an arch. We had once more a snowbound March. PAGE FOURTEEN Barbara Field, Class ’43