Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER 7 Hopping down from my perch, I walk through the dew-laden woods, eating red raspberries, wild strawberries, and thimbleberries until my lips are stained with their juice. In a pool among the rocks the tadpoles are playing, and frogs are floating lazily in the green slime on the top of the water, their green backs matching the color of the scum. And three short hours later, I am in school! Nature’s school seems good enough for me, but others don’t think so, so I must stay all day with those dull companions, Latin, French, and Geometry. It’s a cruel world—sometimes! HELEN L. CARD. ’21 POPPIES As the days of spring pass swiftly Into summer’s dusky haze, Come the lovely, silken poppies With their vari-colored rays. Every morn the garden patches, Gorgeous with their wealth of bloom. Give to us the wondrous message Of hope and cheer and not of gloom As we see the poppies waving, Pink and violet and white Our thoughts turn-to Flander’s poppies Making War s waste places bright. O! blood-red poppies, wafting courage Into many a lonely life. Give us strength to cheer and comfort, Keep us faithful in the strife. Cheering, loving, giving, serving, Happy, with a peaceful heart, Knowing God will keep us safely If we always do our part. HATTIE E. SPAULDING, 20.

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6 THE QUIVER EARLY MORNING IN JUNE If there is anything I enjoy do:ng, it is to get out on the hills about sunrise on a Tune morning. It takes a long time to dress when one has to stop every minute or so to listen to the robin outside the window or io watch the young flickers chase one another across the garden, crying, Wek-up! Wek-up! Wek-up!” The birds begin their calling at the first streak of dawn, telling all the world to wake up and greet the new day. Finally I go out of doors—through the window, so as not to waken the rest of the family. Once out, I run over the dewy grass past the tanks, across Fitzgerald’s pasture, and out where the hills are covered, not with roads and houses, but with brush and woods. Just as I reflect that it is perhaps too chilly for snakes to be abroad, a blacksnake glides across my path at top speed, his splendid, lithe body glistening with dew and his head held high, showing his white throat. Sitting on a great boulder I can see hills everywhere, some covered with barren rocks, but most covered with woods. Far below runs the river and over it hang stretches of white mist, forever changing and shifting, and hiding the eastern hills. I can hear the clear, melodious whistle of Bob-White, the “witchety-witchcty-witch” of the yellow-throat, the whistle call of the blue jays frolicking in the tree-tops, and, from nowhere in particular, the notes of a lonely cuckoo, that always seems to me the incarnation of a lost .'Oul. Nearby on a maple sapling, a thrush lifts his throat to the sky and pours out his wonderful melody. While this is going on, the sun peeps over the hills and kicks off his bedclothes, sending them in rosy Mouds across the sky and dispering the damp and chill from the air, making it warm and bright.

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8 THE QUIVER (SCENES LEFT OUT BY SHAKESPEARE) Act II. Scene V. A Room in Macduff’s Castle. Evening. (Enter Lady Macduff. Sits.) Lady Mrcduff. Where is my husband? He hath said to me That he’d return ere set of sun this day. He planned to hasten home from Inverness As soon as—Hark! Why! Footsteps on the stairs! (Enter Macduff hastily, bursting in like ma 1.) Macduff. Most gracious wife, the royal Duncan’s murthered: Lady. What, our king is murthered in cold blood? Macduff. At Cawdor’s castle was he set upon. Two grooms, kept with him, were besmeared with blood, And question fastened on them of the deed. Macbeth, in rage, hath killed them in their beds As he went in to view the Gorgon sight. (Sits.) Lady. Have you no tidings of this grave affair Save what you have related now to me? Macduff. But little is the knowledge of the deed. None of us know the time, the place, the doer. The story, as I know it, is quite brief: King Duncan had made plans to honor Cawdor, By presents and his presence at his home. He thence arrived on Friday night the last: And after sup, to bed did go apace. ’Tis said Macbeth was up at midnight. Also That owls did shriek, and the poor whippoorwill Did weep the livelong night. So horrible Was the night that the day dare’d not come up Till long after its time accustomed, and The raven, bird of witchcraft, held his post O’er the castle like a harbinger so grim Of death to someone in the castle. Lord Angus did awake at early morn And then did hear a bell toll, once, twice, thrice; Then thought he heard a voice cry out i’the night. Soon after, Ross and I came to the place; The drunken porter slow did ope the door; Then soon did Macbeth come upon us. I wished to see the king on urgent matters,