Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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HART ' S HILL AT SUNSET THE MUSIC OF THE SKY Up in the tower upon the hill I sat above the town, In the sunset ' s glow and the twilight ' s hush As the winds stirred the pines and then with a rush Swept over the shimmering lake. Around and afar spread the dark evergreens And the lighter shades of the elm and the oak And the whisper of trees with their var- ious greens Rolled down to the valleys and rose with hills. Curving and winding its snake-like trail The railroad ran to the north, — And a light flashed up — as down the track came the night express That swept along past the lake and was lost in the woods. Then silence followed, and off to the south The lights of Boston twinkled and danced And a bluish column of smoke rose high And faded again in the hues of the sky. Another glance at the lake below, — With its two little islands, silent, still, — With the green on the shcfl-e and the rose in the sky, And again to the north, like a silver mirror. Another lake flashed in the cool twilight Then to the east there were hills and hills All green crowned and cool and dark; And the town itself from where I stood Seemed quiet too, and here and there A light flashed up or died down. Breathless, silent, wonderful, was evening above the town. The sunset, the trees, the lakes, and the breeze And who was there? — Only Nature and I. An auto horn shrieked — then ' twas quiet again, Then a sleepy bird cooed from its nest. The sunset died, and cool night came — And over the town a silence reigned And the stars looked down and the bright moon rose And I watched from the tower on the hill. —I. M. L. ' 19. The stars of heav ' n the choir make. The moon their leader is; In the calm of night When all is still The chorus they begin; They lift the burden from earth ' s arm And by their melodies Keep earth in sleep. — Geeta Palmer ' 22. A SOLILOQUY I ' ve missed a lot of things this year Because of this old flu, Parties, meets, and things like that That any girl you ever knew Would like to see. At first I couldn ' t go about For fear folks with it would be out But then the tables turned, And, to my great surprise I learned I had the flu. But when this horrid thing is done And influenza ' s had its run, I ' m going to have a poster made In colors bright that will not fade And framed and put up on the wall Right in the face and eyes of all: — Beware the Flu! — Ruth Woodbury, ' 20. In an effort to arouse the spirit of poetry, and to locate any possible talent in that line, Miss Elizabeth F. Ingram offered a prize to the winner of the best poem sub- mitted in a contest open to the three up- per classes. There were many verses submitted, which showed an unexpected interest in writing of this sort. The final decisions were made by Mr. Charles H. Howe, then principal. Miss Emily Boody, ' 20, won first prize and honorable mention was given Miss Ida Low, ' 19. Both poems may be found in the Poets ' Corner. They are To the Colors, and Victory Day.

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The Poet ' s Corner THE STATUE OF LIBERTY THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN She stands aloft, with torch held high, Her torch, the light of Democracy. She welcomes all from foreign shores To the land of the brave and free. When rosy morning ' s glittering hues, Reflect on the sea and sand. Liberty bids all welcome be To our beloved land. When lengthening shadows and deep ' ning shades Proclaim to the world ' tis night, Radiant she stands, so wanderers may see The path to Justice and Right. ' Twas the gift of France to this country of ours A symbol of our mighty land. Of Liberty, lighting the wanderer ' s way, With a flaming torch in her hand. — Ida Rae Esner ' 22. TO THE COLORS Our flag means more to us today Than e ' er it meant before. It stands for freedom and for right And peace forevermore. See how its folds unfurl today; It waves o ' er land and sea, It waves o ' er boys on homeward voyage Who fought for liberty. Somewhere in No-Man ' s Land it floats Where a mother ' s boy lies dead, Who made for us the sacrifice And suff ered in our stead. ■ et ' s wave that flag, that best of flags. When asked to do our bit And give our cash to help its cause With gladness, zeal and grit. Emjly S. Boody, ' 20. There is something gold cannot buy; The memory of a day gone by, A fairy land of flowers fair. In my old-fashioned garden there. Hollyhocks in a stately row, By pathways of my garden grow, And pansy thoughts of varied hue, And violets of heaven ' s deep blue. No fairy place on land or sea That can surpass my memory. Of my old-fashioned garden fair, A fairy land of flowers there. — Edith Lewis, ' 20. A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R T U V w X, Junior Class Alphabet is for Arnold with talent rare, is for Bird with bright red hair; is for Cummings our football stager, is for Draper the sergeant-major; is for everyone in our class, is for Fay, a sweet little lass; is for Goodwin a Greenwood maiden, is for Hanright with smiles o ' erladen; is for Instance, I might surmise, is for Juniors who win the prize; is for Kirk, very good at speaking, Lally and Leach, the Juniors ' Beacon; for McKie, and her expert ability, is for Nickols, and wireless responsi- bility; is O ' Neil, a scholar in shorthand, is for Peterson with his musical hand; is for Quimby, another bright member, is for Roach whom we always remem- ber; is for Sweetser who comes from a dis- tance, is for Taggart, who gives his assistance ; is for You, reader, do not repent, is for Vincent, our vice-president; is for Wallace, who is not a dreamer Y Z is when our class becomes Senior. Tilly Gersinovitch, ' 20.

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VICTORY DAY From Class Room — Over the Top- And Back Again Over the trenches black with mud, Over the barb-wired fieldss aflood, Over the battlements broken and torn, Showed the first white streaks of Victory Morn. Into the darkness of No Man ' s Land, Down to the farthest outposts stand, A cautiously whispered word was sent The message of Peace and all it meant. Peace! while the German guns breathed fire! Peace! standing two feet deep in mire! Peace! the men silently shook their heads — The only peace there was among the dead. But somewhere a gleam of hope flamed up — And somewhere a Yankee cheer went up — And somewhere the guns began to cease — And the word went round, it was really peace. Back o ' er the ocean, miles away — Where the old New England cities lay Wrapped in the darkness and silence of night, A wireless message winged its flight. Into the darkness a whistle blew Louder and louder the shrieking grew, Bells, horns, trumpet and blast Rang out in succession quick and fast. Up in the darkness before the dawn Up in the silence before the morn A nation awoke — exuberant, gay! And rejoiced in the message of Victory Day. But back in the trenches black with mud Under the barb-wired fields aflood, Remember the boys who have paid the price And bought this peace with their sacrifice. And never let us be satisfied, But live for the ideal for which they died. That Victory Day in years to come — May be their work, and yours, and mine, well done! — Ida M. Low, 19. While a student in the Wakefield High School, I answered the call of our Presi- dent for troops with Company A , 6th Massachusetts Infantry on March 27, 1917. My first four months were spent at Fort Revere, Hull, Mass., doing g-uard duty and while here I was promoted to a sergeant. About the middle of July our regiment was mobilized at Framingham, Mass., only to be broken up in August. Fifty, including myself, were transferred to Company A , 104th Infantry then stationed at Westfield, Mass. Here we had the usual camp routine until October 1, 1917 when we received or- ders to prepare for oversea ' s duty. On October 4th, 1917, we left Westfield for Montreal, Canada, where we boarded boat, and after a beautiful ride down the St. Lawrence River anchored inside of Hali- fax Harbor. We stayed here a week await- ing ships from New York to complete our convoy, and in two more weeks we were in Liverpool, England. An all day ride south brought us to Southampton from where, three days later, we boarded ship once more for a fast trip across the English Channel arriving at Havre, France. In France Here we received our first introduction to the soldiers ' Pullman — freight cars — and the little town of Sartes that was to be our home for three months. This beautiful village was situated in the foot-hills of the Alps; and here we under- went a strenuous training period with a veteran French regiment. It was while here that I visited the birthplace of Joan of Arc some twelve miles away. On February 1, 1918 we completed our training and made preparations for our first trip to the front line. We had all been looking forward to it, were well trained, and were glad that at last we were going to face the Huns. On February 5, 1918, our regiment (104th) went int o the front in the Chemin- des-Dames, my company in reserve; on the 16th we took the front. This very evening we received our baptism of fire when the Germans laid down a barrage on our front line and came over on the company on our left. Our boys stood the test and the Ger- mans received a severe beating. The next night I was granted the privilege of going out on my first patrol with Lieut. Robart. Our mission was to inspect the barb-wire-