Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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TREES AT TWILIGHT Gloom and shadow here more conquest hold, Tlian yonder in the teeming city way. Above snow-laden branches, drooping, sway, With ghostly gasps and listless tales half-told; Straight arms to heaven stretch an offering cold; Their fingers shake, and flail the fleeing day. With tiny ticking twigs, they twist at play; Across the sky are far-flung boughs enscrolled. Wind dully whispers to my wind-swept brain. Two fingers stretch the skin about my eyes. The lowered eyelids tug, and upward strain — Gricf-filk ' d joy meets Man, when Nature sighs, When tall trees writhe and bow in creaking pain, When low across the sky, a lone bird flies. JOHN BUTLER, ' 27. EVENING Behind the soft-scented pines of the west- ern hill the King of Day is giving up his reign. The majestic monarch is slowly sink- ing into Eternity. The faint, fluffy clouds, lazily drifting above, are tinged with pink. They become a vivid scarlet which suddenly turns to orchid and then they are gone from sight. Where? No one knows. But perhaps they arc serving their monarch, the Sun, in the far-off land that we cannot see. The western sky changes from pink and gold to purple and gray, then to dimness. Upon the whole world a magic spell seems spread. The trees cease to sway; the birds chirp sleepily in their nests. In the east, Mistress Night slowly and gra- ciously comes to her throne. The sky is now dark and the Keeper of Heaven has hung out His millions of tin-y silver lights. All is tran- quil. The water ceases to slap against the shore and all is still. The soothing hands of Night smooth away the worries and cares of the day. The human soul seeks its Creator in humble, loving worship before the beauty of the Night. LILLIAN S. PHIPPS, ' 27. THE WANDERER Oh, shadowy night, Without a light Except one star, That shines afar — How shall we know, The way to go? Send us a gleam. One friendly beam — One shining ray, To show the way; ' Tis time for rest, Aud home is best. ESTHER SAYEES, ' 27. AT NIGHTFALL Listen ! I can hear their tiny feet, patter, patter; It is the story liour. Shall it be of the grizzly bear Or the old woman in the shoe? Each little one listens closely, Fearing he may not hear everything. When the tale is over, They kneel at mother ' s knee ; With bowed heads and clasped hands, They softly say tlieir prayers. Then scamper off to bed. KATHLEEN .GURLEY, ' 27. GREYHOUND RACING Comparatively unknown in the eastern cities of the United States, but already well established in the South, West, and Middle West, is the new sport, greyhound racing. This sport gives every indication of becoming one of the favorite diversions of America. There are now twenty racing tracks in the United States, Canada, and Great Britain. Greyhound contests appeal to thousands and. they are held at night, when the majority of the people have their leisure time. The idea of dog racing on a track followed the invention of a mechanical hare, operated by electricity. Running around the outer edge of a quarter mile track, the hare arouses the dog to pursue it, as he does a live rabbit scampering across the prairies. We think the dog stupid because he is tempted to chase a dummy rabbit, but in reality he soon learns that he is jjlaying a game and has no chance of catching his prey. After he has learned this, the racing dog pays scant attention to the electric hare but enters into the sport. One of the greatest dogs in the sport. Sunny Concern, will not chase the electric hare. For a test, she was placed on the track alono. Her owner released her as a bunny came whizzing by. Sunny Concern trotted a few steps down the track and then returned to her master. A few minutes later she was joined by a kennel mate, and together, without the inulueement of the hare, they engaged in a thrilling race. Training greyhounds requires constant at- tention, and one who does not understand dogs is not likely to make a success of it. The dogs are kept in the best of health. They are given a thorough examination after every race and, if they become a pound or two over or under weight, they are immediately brought back to perfect healtli by api)ropriate treatment. Before a race, the dogs arc placed iji separ- ate compartments at the beginning of the 18

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DEAN BRIGGS Le Baron Eussell Briggs, unobtrusive and Ijlain iu appearance, caring nothing for the pomp of academic life, does not seem to be the usual type of character portrayed in a biography. Yet, before he retired from ac- tive official service in 1925, he was called the greatest teacher in America, the living patron saint of American college men. There was little about his youth that fore- told his future fame. The earlier part of it was spent in Salem and Plymouth. Later, his father, who was a minister, moved to Cam- bridge so that his sons might attend Harvard. A great deal of his time was spent in read- ing, especially the works of Dickens. Yet, in spite of this bookish propensity, he was a nat- ural, curious boy who liked to explore and study the ships in the harbor — tastes which he kept during his whole life. He entered Harvard in 1871 and four years later was graduated fourth in his class, after taking the prescribed courses. Two profes- sors, George M. Lane, professor of Latin, and George H. Palmer, professor of Greek and philosophy, influenced him for higher educa- tion and a scholarly life. After being graduated he went abroad and studied in the University of Leipsic, but returned in 1878 to become a tutor of Greek. The courses in English were being developed, so he turned from teaching to graduate study and in 1882 received the degree of Master of Arts in English. The next year, lie began his courses in Eng- lish; first, as an assistant to Professor Hill in a sophomore class; later, when he was made a full professor in 1890, as the professor of English 5, a course which was made up of men who had already had some success in writing. It was in this course that the prac- tice of a daily theme was started. His criti- cism of these themes was pleasantly acrid: You make the straight crooked ; anybody can do that ; Although this theme is short, it might well have been shorter. Thus, in that course and in one of freshmen, he raised the standard of writing so that stu- dents no longer disgraced themselves in self- expression. More than this, his influence grew rather than diminished on men after leaving his presence. His contribution to literature is such that he has been called the shrewd genius who created creators. Li 1891, President Eliot named Mr. Briggs successor to Dean Smith. The appointment was greeted with vociferous approval by the students but without enthusiasm by the faculty. President Eliot gave as his reason for the appointment that students were go- ing to him for counsel, and I thought they might keep on going to him, even if he was Dcanl This soon proved to be the case be- cause of Dean Briggs ' policy of friendliness. The man who was down and out always found a helping friend in Dean Briggs; for no matter how pressed he was, he never let anyone feci that a matter was hurried. In cases of discipline he proved to be just as successful and for the same reasons. In being the counsellor of the college, he tried to raise the moral standards of the students so high that discipline Avould be unnecessary. His successor. Dean Hurlburt, said only in the hearts of men arc written the full records of his untiring patience, his boundless faith, and the sympathy that has made each man his brother. Dean Briggs is indeed justly famous for having raised the standards of men both in literature and character, so that all who know liim or know about him can only echo Presi- dent Eliot ' s words that he was patient, ten- der, discerning, candid, just, and cheering, be- cause convinced of the overwhelming predomi- nance of good in the world. ALMA SANDEBS, ' 28. WITH APOLOGIES TO MILTON Hence, loatlied Studying! Of Socrates and ancient pedants born — In some dark school forlorn, ' Mongst horrid tomes and tests and theses trying, Find out some uncouth cell. Where awful learning spreads his jealous wings. And the night-owl sings; There, ujider knotty beams and low-browed eaves. As musty as thy leaves. In dark, dust-covered attic ever dwell. But come, ye Goddesses fair and free. Play and Leisure, come to me! Haste, ye nymphs, and bring with ye. Jest and youthful Jollity; Sport, that wrinkled Care derides. And Laughter holding both his sides. With all the joys that ye can give. Play and Leisure with me live. ETHEL STODDARD, ' 27. 17

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track. When they are released by the rais- ing of a door, an electrician starts the me- chanical hare and he is able to keep it just far enough ahead so that all the dogs may see it. This brings about the closely contested raeo which appeals to our people so greatly. The popularity of this form of racing is attested by the increasing demand for grey- hounds, which has been so great in the last twelve months, that they have had to be im- ported into this country from England, Ire- land nnd Scotland. MILDRED G. MOORE, ' 28. a shriek of despair, it stumbles off the bridge a nd plunges into the murky waters below — Weighed down with its precious burden. MILLEDGE GROUSE, ' 28. THE PROWLER Three o ' clock. Slowly and resonantly a bell tolls in a distant steeple. Rolls of heavy, grey fog are wafted in from the river down the narrow street, making the lamps glow like dull pearls. Sidewalks and streets are de- serted, and not a single glimmer of light shines in the massive, gloomy buildings tower- ing high on either side. Suddenly, a lone figure is perceptible skulk- ing across the bridge. It reaches the begin- ning of the street and disappears into a misty doorway. It reappears for an instant — then slinks into a dark alley. Lurking in obscure corners it makes its way along, stealthily creeping close to a large, impressive structure with windows covered by thick iron bars. Glancing furtively around, the figure draws toward the door. There is a muffled click a s of a lock being picked open, and the portal slides apart into a black slit through which the form hurriedly glides. Soft, soft footfalls move on a marble floor. Long, groping arms stretch in the pitchy dark. A deadened rasping of rough hands passes over a cold metal surface. A thin beam of light is thrown on a circular knob ! And a faint clucking sounds behind the metal- lic surface of a turning dial. There is a last faint knock as the iron posts move out of place, and a huge door swings slowly open. The figure nervously slips inside, and eagerly clutches at some small bags of coins — dropping them in its pockets, and securing them to its person. — Clong! Clang! Clong! — the burglar alarm! The figure has for- gotten about the device in its haste to obtain the metal pieces! But it must escape. Terror- stricken it turns and f lees from the building. Wildly it rushes down the street toward the bridge. It hears a clamor of shouts and whistles behind! — Faster and faster it goes. It is mad with fear. It cannot see— and with LES FLEURS AU PRINTEMPS Ah ! que je les aime, les belles fleurs, Surtout an frais printemps, Avec leurs couleuis si delicatcs, Et odeurs si odoriferantes. L ' eblounssement du coqueljicot. La pensee veloutee, La jonquille penchant dans les brises, Le trainant arbousier. .T ' aime la rose, la belle rose, La violette si petite, Le lilas blanc, la jaeinthe lavande, Et la confuse marguerite. Les abeilles et les oiseaux aussi Aiment au printemps les fleurs, Car ils apportent la joie aux enfants, Et le bonheur a tons les coeurs. RUTH GERSINOVITCH, ' 27. THE WILD APPLE TREE Oh! little wild apple-tree down by the brook. How came you to find so pleasant a nook? Hidden away from all the rest, Having for company, one little nest That a robin has built here year after year, Coming to you, with his heart full of cheer. Making you happy with many a note Ruljbling up from his little round throat. In the spring of the year, when the blossoms peep out. Yours are the loveliest, without a doubt. At last, when the robin says good-bye. You know that winter is drawing nigh ; But don ' t forget, old tree, so dear. That the rolnn is coming back next year. ROSE ASSENZA, ' 30. THE BROOK Slipping, tripping. Sliding, gliding. Flows the brook; Roaming, foaming. Flashing, splashing. In each nook ; Tumbling, rumbling. Pouring, roaring. On the way; Singing, swinging. Dancing, prancing. In its play. DORIS E. BAUER, ' 27. 19