Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

Page 7 text:

THE QUIVER Still as farther on I go, Ever worlds of wonder grow, Many more the road can show, Wandering far and free. Spanning rivers deep and wide, Leaping down the mountain side, Roads go on whate’er betide, loining sea to sea. T. BUELL CARD, ’1C. SPRINGTIME When joyous spring comes on the scene And frosts no more we see, Our pulses thrill, our hearts are keen 'I‘o share the springtime's glee. T’is then we see the budding flowers And hear the robins sing, The vi’lets peep from shady bowers,— All heralding the spring. T’is sturdy March that first appears With breezes fresh and strong; Then howling, shrieking winds one hears, That lash the seas along. Then April comes with tears and smiles, And daffodils so gay; I hen sunny May with merrv wiles To cheer the dullest day. At last comes June with all its charm, All decked with roses fair, With leafy trees and sunshine warm To bring us pleasure rare. Of all the seasons of the year, The springtime is the best; For then the twitt’ring birds we hear. And all the earth seems blest. ANNIE L. NAISMITH, 16.

Page 6 text:

THE QUIVER G1'.anting steely bright. While such steed awaits my will, Never long shall I be still, Faring on from hill to hill, Tireless, morn to night. Mounting with the rising sun, Haste I on ere day’s begun, Where the river mists are spun, Hanging white and gray. Where the breeze-borne vapors flowed, Dripping leaves beside the road, Bending with their dewy load, Beautify my way. Every turn brings new delight Streaming inward on my sight, Fields and meadows glowing bright. Reaping is begun. Throbbing through the brooding a;r Drowsy drones the mower, where Grasses wave in billows fair ’Neath the yellow sun. Lustrous lies the lake unrolled, Lily spangled, white and gold Gemlike on its surface cold, Sparkling, crystal, gay. Light and free the osprey soars O’er the torrent he explores; Loud the falling water roars, Calling me away. Riding o’er the hill-tcp high. Poised between ihe earth and sky, While far below the valleys lie Wrapt in azure haze, Dim the city I descry Where the smoke-wraiths float and fly. Born of fires that never die. From the foundry’s blaze.

Page 8 text:

 » THE QUIVER A LITTLE JOURNEY INTO SOCIETY 250 Ballou Street, Woonsocket, R. I., March 20, 1915. Dear Miss Mowrv: Perhaps you will be interested to hear about an incident of niy summer vacation. It was an experience that is now of interest to me, but, at the time, it was far from pleasant, for it caused the destruction of some of my illusions. While I was staying at my sister’s home, I received an invitation to a dinner and dance at the Country Club. The affair was to be given by Grace Nelson, an acquaintance of mine. As I had never attended a young people’s dinner-party, I was over-joyed at the invitation; but my brother-in-law refused to be enthusiastic. “I’m not sure you’ll like it, Dot,” he said. During the next few days, my sister told me about the young people whom I was to meet at the dance. She said that they were children of the oldest and wealthiest families in the city; that they were being educated in the most select schools in the country; that they had been given every opportunity that wealth, position, and breeding could offer; that, consequently. I, who had had few opportunities. must be very careful of my conduct. She instructed me to be modest and gracious, and to speak in a low voice. “I don’t know these young people very well,” she said, “but their parents are our friends. Be careful, Dot, and don’t disgrace the family.” When the evening of the dance arrived, I was filled with nervous delight. My good friends in Woonsocket were polite enough when it was necessary, I thought, but they were not especially clever. Now my dream was to be fulfilled. I was to meet clever, well-bred boys and girls, who had traveled extensively and had studied with the best