Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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And as the morn wears on into the noon, The rain that tomes unheard, Begins to fall and I can see Last summer’s leaves made slippery. The checkerberry plants are shiny And I stoop to pick one, crushing it Between my teeth, once more 1 o taste the stinging flavor of the green. The earth is still but for the Muffled music of the rain and I am happy, filled with amazement At what this world can give And those who will not take it. Crossing a wood road, I feel that It intrudes upon my calm And once again I pass into the brush. Away from what is made by man, I o seek and find the intoxication Of living with the wild. Now the sun peeps out to find An earth more beautiful than I have tongue to tell, as many Jeweled rain drops dazzle me And prove that all the riches In this world are in my sight. I am a king. Looking into the glen I see what Brought me to this lovely paradise. I watch, breathless, wondering if These creatures are as filled with joy As I, to walk and live alone and silent In this wood, to see arbutus Budded, and hear the hidden brooks. Long days will come When I will have to stay at home, Like other men, and dream, but mine Will be enriched for I have seen the world As it should be. MARION WEBSTER, ’49 — Fifteen —

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SPRING MAGIC Ah, what is so rare as a fresh spring day When all the world is out to play. When fresh green grass springs up o’er all, And hearts are released from winter’s thrall? The world is one big humming sphere Reflecting joy from far and near While babbling brooks and bright blue skies Leave their wonders in everyones’ eyes. A time when old and young rejoice With awful wonder in every voice Ah, what a breath-taking, throbbing thrill To view it all from a lofty hill. And when at last spring magic's gone A tender memory lingers on For in our hearts the echoes ring The glories of our blooming Spring. ANN DEMERITT, ’51 ---WRHS— PERCEPTION I thrill to the cold dark metal of my gun In hand, the damp still hour before The dawn shall break and find Me waiting, listening for the snap Of some small twig, watching for The track to lead me on Into a world of fascination and enchantment. The warm scent of crushed sweet fern Mingled with the tangy taste of birch buds Plucked unknowing from some low branch Which chanced to brush my cheek As I moved past, brings love of living And freedom to my soul. — Fourteen —

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MY RIDE FOR LIFE Breathlessly I prayed that time and fate would not run out on us. Very cautiously I breathed a reassuring word to the blonde who was riding next to me. In low tones I told her to take the reins of my bounding steed while I turned in my saddle to get a better shot at the two pursuing men. POW! POW! BANG! POP! ZING! They had been chasing us for nearly five minutes. BANG! BANG! I strained my eyes to get a better look at them. Very faintly I could make out one red and one dark headed man dressed in bright red uniforms with brass buttons. BANG! BANG! Frantically I fired at the pursuers, only to miss every valuable shot. Every now and then we passed some brilliant lights and then plunged into total darkness. We now had only a few more minutes ride. 1 he two men had kept up the chase for nearly ten minutes, firing shots that sizzled and whistled by our ears. They never seemed to gain on us or we never seemed to pull away from them. The horses were tired, I knew, for they were very small, but they kept up their bounding pace. The blonde was also suf- fering from loss of sleep, but she was too frightened to do anything but keep riding. Our destiny was very close now. Just around the corner I could see the gate which we had been praying to reach and pass through. Only a few feet to go. GOOD HEAVENS! I he horses slowed down. They stopped suddenly and I banged my head on the brass pole of the Merry-Go-Round. GEORGE MARTIN, ’49 ---WRHS— WHY I SHOULD READ They finally called my name! I walked up to the microphone with shakey knees and hopes of winning the $20,000 jackpot! The an- nouncer cleared his throat. I heard him speak, but what was he saying.-' After shaking my head several times, I detected the sound at last. Miss Stearns, who.........” Yes, it all happened on a radio program which I attended while visiting friends in California. I knew that my folks and towns-people were listening to the broadcast so I had to make good. Here’s the story — — Sixteen —