West High School - Senior Occident Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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THE OCCIDENT 131 ::WE5T HIGH:; PRESENTS the CLASS « JAN.I3I6 FUTURE

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130 THE OCCIDENT 01U BB I. I gazed into the mystic em'rald pool Wherein the seer of old had gazed and found His fate, with invocations wierd, pro- found. His fortune, written on the waters cool. And, as I gazed, I thought, “My class in school— How will they fare, the broad, wide world around?” And, as I dreamed, reclining on the ground. An- apparition from the magic pool Arose—a spirit clothed in purest white— And with its hand it pointed toward the . sky And lo! from out the west a shooting star Shot upward, onward, and did mount on high. Reach Zenith, halt, and disappear afar. II. T gazed into the golden bowl of fate, The golden bowl with em’rald water brimming, And there the destinies, the future lim- ning, Showed forth unto my eager eyes the late Fulfillment of a late accomplished fate. A purple cloud, the em’rald water dim- ming, Parted, and o’er the placid surface skim- ming, Appeared a bird; then quickly flying straight Into the air, in eagle’s form, and bright, And in increasing spirals ever higher It winged its way, till it could not he seen. Then whence it vanished shone a ball of light; And then, in accents of a voice of fire. I heard these mystic words: “Nineteen- sixteen” f ? a r 1015

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132 THE OCCIDENT THE REFUGEE By Fanny Thomas “Jean, all Jean !” Marie cried when she found herself separated from her brother in the great crowd of Belgian refugees who were trying to board the ship that September night in the memorable year of 1914. She struggled to free herself, but she could not turn back. The mob swept her on, across the gang-plank, on to the boat. She tried to force her way against the steady stream of people hoarding the vessel. Suddenly she real- ized the futility of her efforts for the gang-plank was taken in and the ship was in motion. Terror seized her! She ran to the railing. In agony, she stretched out her arms in longing for Jean and her native land, but the space between them continued to widen. She stood for a time as though in a trance, her mind’s eye picturing Jean pressed into service, suffering in the trenches,— possibly—but no it could not be! In a frenzy, she ran her twitching fingers through her hair. The girl had been compelled to go as a steerage passenger for lack of money. She shuddered at the thoughts of a voyage in such a man- ner for she was accustomed to comfort- able surroundings. “Mon Dicu!” she exclaimed hoarsely; and collapsed, falling to the lloor in a heap— Marie awoke to find herself no longer in the steerage but in a berth in a state- room. She wondered at it, only faintly recalling how she happened to be on a ship. As though jn answer to her thoughts she heard a voice saying in French, though with an unaccustomed accent. . . “Well, my dear, 1 am glad to see that you have recovered. Half an hour ago, when I saw you faint I was much alarmed and had you brought up here. As soon as you feel well enough I want you to tell me about yourself.” Marie turned her head and saw beside her a kindly, gray-haired woman whose face showed the suffering which she was experiencing. Weariness was there, and sorrow, also. She did not recognize her as one of New York’s foremost women but only as a new, true, friend. Marie felt much better; so she sat up in order the better to tell her story. “I am Marie De Seur,” she began. My brother and I fled from the town when our home was destroyed and father was taken prisoner. With what little money we had wc arrived at the coast, planning to go to America. We were separated in the rush to board the ship for we and others were late.” She Often Crying—