Villa Maria Academy - Trumpet Yearbook (Erie, PA)

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Memories 050 Oft, I sit in contemplation and as the golden hours fly, I am Wafted back on the wings of time to pleasant days gone by. To memories which swell my empty heart with exalted gladness, Memories which render my heart, but an aching sea of sadness. Thinking of our unhappy parting when you said adieu. Desiring yet in vain, to live those moments again with you. Hours We spent together are locked safely in my breast, Guarded like the musty gold of a pirate's treasure chest. There no living being can rob me of my riches Because they are secreted in my heart's most secluded niches. Then, I awaken to reality and my soul begins to ache, But, T struggle on for the memories of old timcls sake. M. B., '32 0-20050 Independence There was a tumult in the city, In the quaint old Quaker town, And the streets were filled with people, Pacing restless up and down. Now the hlue Atlantic currents, Lashed the old Newfoundland shore, They beat against the State House, They surged against the door. They surged against the State House, While all solemnly inside, Sat the Continental Congress, Truth and reason for their guide. O'er a simple scroll debating Though simple as it be, Yet ltwould make them free forever, From Englaud's cruel tyranny. F ar aloft in a. high steeple, A bellman lifts his hand, And forth he sends the joyous news, Making music through the land. How the people shouted, VVhen the old bell shook the air! For when that clang of freedom sounded. Independence reigned everywhere. I M. li., vm. at vs 1-1'

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My Garden 0430 Once in the evening's twilight I saw in the embers' glow, A sweet old fashioned garden That l loved long years ago. It was only an old fashioned garden Witli flowers of every hue, That shone and sparlcled like dliamonds YVith the fall of the morning dew. The golden daffodils danced in glee The eroouses laughed at their spryness, The tulips, too, seemed bright and gay The forget-me-nots drooped in shyness. The morning glories peeped their heads In and out the pieketed fence, And the pinks with the blushing roses Poured forth sweet-smelling scents. Now Lifels youth is past, its birds have flown Its flowers are dead and gone, But mem'ries of my garden Still flood my heart with peace and song. M. ofo., es. 030030 Charity A Dreamer dreamed a beautiful dream, A Poet wrote it down, An Artist drew it in colors, And won for it world renown, A Sculptor made it a. beautiful form, And gave to the world to see, A Musician condensed the thought into notes, And measured it carefully, A A Merchant carried it. over The wild and stormy sea, And God sent a lovely angel down, To name it Gharity',. E. M., '31, 0200-31 If Ol If the birdies in the trees WOl1ldH,b sing so merrily, What would happen to the flowers Who listen for their song? M. F., '33, -at 74 31

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Memories OCDO Our sojourn here at the Villa is now rapidly drawing to a close, but some-- how we do not feel the jubiliation we anticipated. Students generally look forward with a great deal of joy to the day when they will be graduated for it- is their crown of success after four years of striving and effort. Frankly, we do feel a sense of satisfaction that we have, in common par- lance, made good , but it seems to me the poet spoke truly who said, the greatest joy is always tinged with a bit of sadness. Smiles and tears are life's composition. We are happy because the goal is won and life is about to place us in a different setting, another act in the drama. Some will pursue higher studies while others, less fortunate, will take their places in the workaday world about us. How Memory, that sweet haunting spirit from the past, takes ns back to our first day in high school! It seems as but yesterday when we first entered its portals as untutored young fledglings, awed by the solemn but peaceful walls. lVere we not a little thrilled by the thought that we were now high-school students? Here in the years that followed were we not taught the beauties of life and how to understand and appreciate them? We1'e' not the beauties of our religion, of poetry, of music, art and literature placed vividly before our minds? In an environment naturally conducive to contemplation, we enjoyed de- lightful Spring noon hours wandering in the cool grove while around and about us the Sisters passed with grave and measured tread. Long will we remember with a pang of regret, the peaceful and holy stillness of OUR LAIJY'S CHAPEL where oft we uttered a fervent prayer. v. D., ei. 030050 Radio Dreams Many places oft I go 'VVhile listening to my radio. I hear soft notes from old Japan I hear a woman, child or man, Whilst I picture in my mind People of most every kind. I may see matadors in Spain Or lovers in a country land I sometimes see the Pope in Rome A royal person on his throne. A famous athlete playing games, A politician gaining fame, 7 0130 Some little mademoiselle in France, A knight of old with spear and lance, I see the mountains rising high, The raging sea-the flaming sky. I picture flaming youth today, Tomorrow-sweethearts old and gray. I vision men both rich and poor And powerful nations, strong and sure The man with millions ne'er may know Vlfhat I dream, or where I go. There is no region high nor low I have not been-with my radio. E. ia., is at 'ze