Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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CHARLES W. GOODRICH, Headmaster

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1-1 O O .-Ce' U ior High S am Sen .-CI 3 ro 3

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WALTHAM HIGH SCHOOL The Hill The young man walked beside his silent father, Walked through woods of smiling peace and quiet, There beneath the branches green with leaves Making dark the woodland path they trod, Shutting out all hint of human world, On they went-a father and a son, On and up until they stood atop A lofty hill around which lay their world, And they could see the gently swaying boughs Make a living sea of verdant green. The wind was one of soft and gentle origin, And tossed a lock of tawny, curly hair Across the sun browned forehead of the youth. It was a peaceful place: The young man spoke: No doubt, the saidj Yon can remember when There were much more of settings such as this, Of land and country filled with quiet places, XVhere civilization's touch had not yet come To bring with it, in place of peace and quiet, The cruelty and avarice of man. You - - - even you - - - although so very close To this - - - our present state of modernity, Had no fears to meet the world alone, Had no fears of going through your life Xx7ithout at least a try at honest labour, Had no fears of plunging into war To satisfy the vain and mad conceit Of men across the sea who seek for power: My generation faces such. The father Sighed and put his arm around his son With gesture full of care and understanding. Turned the youth, and filled his eyes with his, An then, his face once more aglow with what He saw therein, he gave his glance again Back to the scene below: the youth's eyes followed His. And now the father broke the still. My son, the saidj and pointed to the green, All this is yours to have and love and cherish, All this for you and for your sons to come, For generations have your forbears kept it Clean, and for the most-part, full of hope: However black the future seems to be, However dark the path of life appears, My son, remember, they too lived their lives In times of darkness, fear and sore distress. Your Revolutionary fathers lived In constant fear of loss of life and commerce, And so it's been throughout this mighty world, Fear has done his work with evil calm, Crept into the smallest of the openings In man's puissant suit of armor-Faith! And bored down there within his very soul To be an ever present source of trouble. But in all times when dark has been the future Of a nation, have there risen from Obscure places in that nation's core The men who carried out to high perfection Every thought and every high ideal: Those were men who went ahead and did And lived to watch their work bear ripened fruit. Those were men who laughed when scoffers jeered, And carried on and worked, and toiled-and won! You say, my son, that all those days are dead, That you have not the chance your fathers had, That you will never climb to any heights And blaze your name across our country's annals, But can't you see that you have all to gain By holding to ideals of men who knew That this would be a country full of hope, And not one full of sorrow and despair. You have your chance to make from what you have A life of happiness and symphony, Success if you but try, is bound to come: But that success is not all due to working, For in your working you must have that spark-- That quality which is so hard to catch- The quality that all the men who moulded This, our land, must first, perforce, have captured. That spark is nothing more than simple faith: Cfzlrla it-hold it-then the world is yours! Joi-IN B. LEWIS.