Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

Page 9 text:

THE quiver JUNE, 1919 PRICE. 20 CENTS CONTENTS Mother Nature Awakes...................................... 5 Early Morning in June .................................... 6 Poppies................................................... 7 Scenes Left Out by Shakespeare........................... 8 Hangman s Comer........................................... 12 Canada's Help in the Great War............................ 13 A Mysterious Disappearance................................ 15 Our Hike.................................................. 16 Extracts from a Senior Diary.............................. 17 Editorials................................................ 20 School Notes.............................................. 22 Athletics................................................. 30 Alumni Notes.............................................. 34 Harmless Arrows........................................... 37 MOTHER NATURE AWAKES Springtime is here, The trees are in bloom, The flowers are exhaling Their sweetest perfume. The birds, singing gaily. Their glad notes raise, And pour forth in song Mother Nature's praise. MILDRED HOYLE. ’21.

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MODERN SHOE STORE V4 MAIN STREET Home of Shoe Bargains BEAUDET, JEWELER 111 MAIN STREET KAUFMAN’S HATS AND GENTS' FURNISHINGS 1 10 Main Street For CarJ Engraving or Invitations See Compliments of RYNN, STATIONER 325 Main Street Phone 395-W TAFT’S CLOTHES SHOP IDEAL CLOAK SUIT CO. 115 MAIN STREET Compliments of GOODNOW-MORSE-BROOKS CO. Compliments of PROGRESS CONFECTIONERY CO. 104 MAIN ST. Telephone 324-W “A FRIEND OF EDUCATION” THE LAFAYETTE SHOE STORE The Robinson Company SUCCESSORS TO THE FASHION I 70 Main Street, Woonsocket, R. I.

Page 10 text:

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.