Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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10 THE QEIVEK ibrating with songs, llow beautiful it was! On one side the volcano that mournfully smoked its pipe, and above its flanks the interminable fields of lava that, in the distance, in the midst of the sparkling green of the country, seemed motionless shadows caused by large clouds. The sea, white with foam and sails, appeared on the other side, and far off, the villages of Vico, Meta, Sant’ Anielo, and Sorrento, hidden among the groves of oranges, seemed as white as the feathers that fell from the angels’ wings when they came on earth to make love to the Earth’s daughters; and then Capri and Ischia and Procida and the nebulous Ponza, behind which the indistinct fog of the sea said to the unwearied eyes: “Now, it is enough!’’ After crossing the narrow plain of Castellamare’s marine, we c,arted immediately on the wonderful way which leads to Sorrento. T. is. a continuous succession of fanciful points of view, one more splendid than the other. The way, at first horridly picturesque, becomes soon full of majestic reefs and precipices, and then, of gracious .little vales, like Ormidi gardens, concealed among groves and gigantii cedars, in passing by which we were cheered by the sea breeze, and covered with a rain of white petals. It is a most fanciful scene, a sweet idyll of Nature sung by the wind. The honeysuckle and the flexuous ivy twisting themselves around the garden railings, climbing from balcony to balcony and running along the houses, hide these under a coverlet of foliage and flowers: colossal agaves, India figs, palms, olives with dark leaves and slender trunks, humid by the sea foam, dashed their branches in the air. raising their foliage one above the other as if they also would enjoy the sight of the sea and of the divine country which surrounded them. It seemed that everything was shining, that everything was moving and resounding around us with a sweet melody, that the sky and tlie earth were become mad and were smiling at our silly faces lost in an ocean of contemplative rapture. FELICETTA LEONT, ’u THE POND LILY Beautiful Lily, so pure and so bright, Wjth center the purest oft gold, . ti,, . You seem to have borrowed your chalice of light , . • From the sun that never seems old.. t Yon grow'in‘the pond: yet high and dry — ■ You live in the wafers broad;’ • .. I You-must have fallen from the sky, i.- i ►-ii • From the gardens bf our dear Lord. MARION SALLEY, ’16.

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THE QUIVER 9 We were told to put our feet in first, roll over on our right side, and slide. As we slid, we felt someone catch our feet and place them in niches; then placing our hands, as the guide directed, we found ourselves clinging to the face of a great rock, with far beneath us a pool ol green water. We edged across this rock by means of other niches and went through a long dark tunnel, in which one had to crawl over r cks in order not to step into the river. At the end of this tunnel there was a small circular cave, hollowed out of solid rock, so far below the surface that only a single ray of light struck the dark, stagnant water with which it was filled. At the end of a series of great rocky chambers, we came to the Lemon Squeezer, where we literally had to tie ourselves into knots to get through. Next we climbed down a ladder into a dark hole, from which we found our way into a flattened tunnel known as the Kat Hole. In this we lay flat on our stomachs and wiggled through, keeping in close touch with the feet of the person ahead of us. Coming out, we climbed an upright tunnel by means of niches, in which we placed our hands and feet. In the last cave, the cave of Lost Souls, we had to use j aper torches in order to see the immensity of the great, damp, dark rock-room. From there we came out to see Paradise balls, where the river issues from its underground passages into •I e sunshine and tumbles hundreds of feet over jagged rocks. Then came the weary tramp back to the carriages, the gypsy lunch, and the long drive home. We had enjoyed our trip, but we tailed to realize the joy fully until the next morning, when we tried in vain to find a comfortable position for our overtaxed muscles. HARRIET VOSE, ’14. A TRIP FROM NAPLES TO SORRENTO It was in May, the month of flowers and songs, that I made a trip to a corner of dreamland in Italy. I had been in Naples several times, but I had never explored its surroundings; and it was with enthusiasm that, on a smiling morning, I started on my journey from Naples to Sorrento. The train left Naples with a long whistle that seemed full of joy, while our souls drank in, with rapture, the sunshine and the fragrance of the air. and our eyes feasted on the scenes that Nature displayed to us in rapid succession. May exulted in the clear sky, in the dewy vales, in the dreamy hills. There was everywhere a growing, an infinite happiness of living that came down from the heavens, that arose from the earth, that penetrated the air, the bright air,

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THIS QUIVER A VIEW OF NARRAGANSETT BAY 11 From the top of a bluff on the west side of Narragansett Bay on a Sunday evening in summer, the view is most picturesque. The blue waters of the bay are ruined slightly by the evening breeze and sparkle under the last rays of the sun. The windows in the houses on the opposite shore reflect the sun's rays, making them seem like patches of 11 a me Away down the bay, near Prudence Island, just at sunset the water is flecked with white patches that, when they come nearer, are seen to be sails on boats returning from a day’s outing. After the sun is out of sight, the sky over the bay changes from a fire red into pink, then purple, and then into a peaceful blue. All these colors are reflected in the water and make a rainbow bay. There arc two lighthouses, one near, and one farther away, and the red i ghts from them gleam dull in the twilight, but as the evening advances, become brighter. As it grows darker, lights from the boats twinkle on the now gray waters of the bay and from crescent Park, which is nearly opposite us, a shaft of light crosses me water. At this time are heard the laughter and songs from merrymakers on boats returning from an outing or going out on a moonlight sail. Steamers going to the shore places pass, all ablaze with lights, and whistles of all kinds are heard. At eight o’clock the New York boat goes by with its band playing. All along the shores, red fire is lighted, and the boat answers, either with a salute whistle or by flashing the searchlight, which shows the shores and the people on them plainly. A little later, all is quiet except occasional songs, or whistles from passing boats. Then the moon rises. At first it seems like a big, golden ball, but in a few minutes changes to silver. This brings out in relief the boats on the water, whose white sails gleam in the silver light. As the moon rises higher in the sky, it makes a bridge of shimmering silver across the bay. The twinkle of the myriads of tiny stars that gleamed like diamonds is dimmed by the bright beams of the moon. The waves arc heard gently lapping on the shore and the boats are seen riding quietly at anchor, while the whole bay is showered with a radiant silver light. The breeze heightens slightly as the night advances and with it the salty perfume of the sea seems to bring the mystery and enchantment of the night. ELIZABETH SCATTERGOOD, ’16.