Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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Leo Beo-ne ar THE FOUR SEASONS Spring When buds peep through their brown jackets, And turn into small yellow things, And then grow into bright green leaves; When birds sing blithely, And fly about collecting straw to build their nests. And the robin sings his cheery song, And everything is pleased to be alive; When young meii ' s fancies lightly turn To thoughts of love, And all the world is aglow with dazzling sunlight ; Then it is spring. Winter Summer When all the earth is clad in green. And apples are forming on the trees. And corn-stalks are starting to bend Under heavy loads ; When boys at evening Start for the ball-field to test their skill And to sweat ; When the days are long and sultry. And the nights are hot and still ; When men toil under the scorching sun. And boys splash in hajjpy glee As they duck a comrade In the Or Swimmiu ' Hole ; Then it is summer. Autumn When, from the trees, briglit leaves, Red, yellow, brown, and green, Fall to eartli and make A gentle swish as we walk througli them; When men hear and feel the call of the woods, And take their guns to Ijring back fatted fowl; When ripe pumpkins are neatly stacked Against the garden wall ; When the corn is tied in trim bundles Waitir.g to be stripped of its remaining seeds. And red, rosy apples give out their spicy fragrance ; When there is the odor of fresh apple-cider; Wlien the air is crisp and clear, And everyone feels brisk and gay. Then it is autumn. When the trees are cold and bare, And tlie earth is covered with a pure white blanket ; When the rabbit leaves his tracks upon the snow, And the lairds have flown to their southern homes ; When the brooks and ponds are hidden ' neath a coat Of flinty ice and fluffy snow, And all the earth is bleak and desolate; When the days are short and the nights are long; When the wind howls and blows in icy blasts, And cuts through the clothes of mau, And chills him to the marrow; Tlien it is winter. PAUL E. BLACK, ' 27. THE GOLDEN AGE OF POETRY Four years ago, there undoubtedly existed, in the sterile brains of the coddled freshman, a spark of poetrj ' , but it has remained buried deep until this year, when the pink and ten- der child has grown into a manly, tough, and terrible senior. Nevertheless, the spark was there; and it needed but the breath of an English teacher to fan it into a roaring con- flagration. That breath has been breathed. The deed is done; and, in his effort to appre- ciate good poetry, the uutrained senior has gone to surprising lengths. To illustrate my point, I relate the follow- ing incidents:— I hied myself to the home of one of my North Ward friends to prepare a debate, and, upon entering his sanctum, liad this bit hurled at me with eloquent and fiery gesture :

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able surroundings, school ana class spirit have received a new impetus, and loyalty to higher standards is manifest. These privileges which, four years ago, filled us with surprise and delight, may now have become commonplace to us; but let us not forget in years to come, the great benefits which were bestowed upon us when the citizens of Wakefield erected the new high school. E. D. ITEMS OF INTEREST ABOUT OUR STAGE Many of the pupils of the High School do not realize what has been done in connection with the use of the auditorium stage for dramatics. Our stage is very unusual because of the semi-circular arrangement of panels, which are sixteen feet high and four feet wide. There are no wings and no backdrop, and there is a space of about fifteen feet wide in front of the curtain, that is practically of no use, as no scenery can be put on it. In working out our problem of stage setting, the first things to be considered were exits and entrances, as there were no doors — nothing but mere panels. A regulation door, of ordin- ary height, that could open and shut, was made by the Manual Aits Department, to be set in between the permanent panels. Another panel to go over the door was made, and these were both painted to match the regular panels. The painting was done so cleverly by the Fine Arts Department, that the difference from the other panels is not distinguishable. A French door was also made ; this is easily adjustable and can be used for windows and the like. Of course a background was needed, so two screens that stand up from the floor were fashioned. One was painted to represent the interior of another room and to correspond with the general stage decorations. The other was of a pale blue color to represent an out- door scene. In addition to our lack of s cenery, the lighting was very poor, as there were only two lights at the rear of the stage, and these belonged to the gymnasium. The footlights, sunk as they were below the floor, and far from the actual acting space, were of no value whatever unless the actor came within six feet of them. The light from them struck the ceiling and reflected upon the audience, thus, instead of aiding any production, only adding to the discomfort of the audience ; so two large box floodlights were constructed to light the down-stage action. These lights are placed usually one on either side, and directly behind the front curtain. They are movable and can be used in any position needed. Some blue burlap was bought and made into curtains for the top, and a gold curtain was placed between the two blue ones. Both the curtains and the gold backdrop have been used at least three times. It is material that is permanent and can be used whenever needed. The first play of last year, The Importance of being Ernest , presented the problem of a garden setting to the Fine Arts and Wood- working Departments. It was handled very cleverly. The second play, The Eising of the Moon, required a night scene on the shore of a body of water, which offered still an- other problem in stage design to the Fine Arts Department. Another curtain of netting was bought, in two different shades of blue, and laid over the gold drop; upon this were pinned irregular strips of dark and light paper, producing the effect of water. The two floodlights were used for the lighting by put- ting blue screens in front of them. A blue spotlight w as also used. In Daddy Long-Legs , there was a problem of stairs and a fireplace. These were made in the woodworking shop. The stairs are peculiar in that they are adjustable to any place on the stage, and can be used without any landing, with two landings, or with but one. A new piece of scenery is now being made; it consists of three screens. These screens are eighteen feet long by twelve feet high, and will be painted to represent various scenes tliat may be used. These are to be set inside the doors and offer a new interior scene; this will make it possible to have greater latitude in choosing plays. Before, we were very much limited in our choice. Every time a play is produced, it offers op- portunities for the co-operation of the various departments. There is advertising to be done; there are news articles to be written for the school and local paper; posters to be printed by the school press (which is operated by the pupils) and drawn by the boys and girls in the Art Department; scenery and special pieces of property to bo constructed by pupils in the woodworking shop and painted by the stu- dents in the Art Department; costumes and drapes to be made, in the Sewing Department, and music to be furnished by the school orchestra. E. W.

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BRAVE AND FREE VERSE If you kicked me oJjliquely unanswerable and sent me skyward, bluely careening, with a diabolic grin, that, to me, seemed like the heat-lacking blast of Boi ' eas; what would my unproportioned thoughts of you, satyr, be? I a sonnet would styl on paper, clay or column, these thouglits, which, tongueing their way — At this 1 lied, fearing for my reason. Tliinking myself safe in paying a visit to one of the honorable ushers of the local theater, I entered the parlor of this, my poor friend, and heard these words: Weasle — measle; Measle — weasle; a perfect rhyme! Earnestly I tried to persuade him to leave, for the present, his lyre, but to no avail. After some teasing, he resorted to blank verse, declaiming: O Thou, Whose judgment rules the Universe ; Who watchcst o ' er the destinies of men. Tell me if e ' er l)efore in hist ' ry ' s scoiie, Such deep and boundless ignorance hath been Incorporated in one cranium As has been bottled up within the skull Of this misguided fool? I stood aghast! To think that this hard- hearted soul had succumbed! Wearily, I traced my steps homeward, hoping to find solace in the study of Muzzey ' s History. On the way, Avhom should I meet but the history teacher, himself I He blushed coyly, and handed me a paper with these words written upon it: Boll on, thou pretty dark blue ocean, roll! Thou art not for an age, but for all time. Doomed to Reave and settle here ; thy goal Only to rise and fall. What crime Is here, that thy poor soul. Must sink and find its grave in slime? Poetry can go too far! MAUEICE A. HATCH, ' 27, MODERN VERSE AND WHAT IT MEANS TO ME When I am tired and feeling blue, I tuck a volume of Rupert Brooke ' s poems under my arm and go up to my room to read. I seem to see the picture of Brooke come upon the page and explain to me what the poem meant to him aud why he wrote it. My favorite of all his collection is The Soldier, the poem in which his whole soul seemed to reveal itself. Of course there are others as good and prob- ably more interesting to other readers, but this just happened to strike my fancy. It seems the most like my imaginative Brooke. On a wild wet day, I think of Fannie Davis ' poem, Wild Weather, and wonder at her skill in being able to paint such a vivid picture in so few words, and yet have such a clear ' and wonderful poem. Naturally it w,ould be hard for any of us to try anything so mar- velous as these, but I can tell you that it isn ' t necessary to be a genius to appreciate poetry. If you hold your cat to your ear, perhaps he will tell you the story that Arthur Guiter- man ' s cat told him; later, when writing of it, he called it Etiquette. Don ' t drop the cat when you begin to laugh. Of course we all feel humorous at times, so when you do feel like that, read Etiquette and get as much fun out of it as I did. Have you a friend or relative that went to war, never to return? Amy Lowell ' s Bom- bardment and Joyce Kilmer ' s A Soldier in France will make impressive pictures on your mind as they did on mine when I read them. It amazed me that a woman could write of such horrible things as Amy Lowell did and do it so well. In Flanders Fields by John Mc- Crae . is a different sort, although it showed what our boys went through for the sake of us folks at home. Perhaps you have lost a friend recently, or someone dear to you is ill, and you wonder at the silence of the great things Beyond. Edgar Ijee Masters often wondered, and at last wrote a poem which he called Silence. It seems to fathom the silence of the dead, and things that another could not. If you need the right kind of friend, per- haps Henry Van Dyke can help you out with A Mile With Me, a poem in which he dis- cusses our friends; those that soothe our feel- ing with silence and those who use eloquence. How often we are in need of a friend of that sort ! The fog interested Carl Sandburg and, get- ting out his pencil, he wrote a poem called Fog, very short, but full of interest. To tell which of these poems I like the best would be impossible, but I do know that I have at least learned to look at poetry with my eyes wide open, and I shall find in it all the enjoyment that I need. MYETLE GROVE, ' 27.