Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER THE FATE OF AN EASTER “BONNET” 11 I have always had rather tomboyish tastes, and if there is anything I dislike, it is something fancy and new to wear, in the line of shoes and hats, especially. For instance, I could wear middy blouses always, but I am sure to be thinking up a multitude of excuses the minute a pretty white dress is mentioned. I hate to hear. What will people say!” and I have often wondered why we should be uncomfortable just on account of what people say. This spring1—and, oh! how I dreaded it—I knew I was to have a new Easter hat. My affection for the various “tarns” I had clung to all winter increased. I was dragged down street by my mother and elder sister in quest of a suitable hat. My tastes were not consulted. as they knew them too well already, and so those unfeeling relatives picked out my hat. They said it was “perfectly lovely” and “suited me so well”; but the things I should have liked to say about it were exquisitely unmentionable—for various reasons. I de rived some comfort on the way home by the vision of myself doing a hula dance on that innocent “bonnet.” At home, in the kitchen, I took the hat out of the bag and looked at it. My disgust increased. Of all the “phony” things —! It was made of some kind of dark blue straw wound around in a queer fashion; a wreath of what looked like oak leaves encircled the crown ; a bunch of wild apples grew on the southwest corner; and a kind of lollypop, on the “all-day sucker” style, stuck up in front: while a regular vegetable garden overran the crown. Disgustedly I left the hat on a kitchen chair and ran off to join my brothers in the delightful sport ot catching frogs, lizards, dragon-fly larvae, and water-bugs in a pond nearby. The next morning, my mother asked me where my new hat was, and my heart sank, for I could see myself walking to church in that hat. We went to the kitchen—where we found it, too—but, oh, what a hat! Under the stove it lay, a mass of torn straw and split ap pies, and on the debris sat our little setter pup, gravely chewing the “lollypop.’ I nearly disgraced myself by laughing, but man aged, instead, to murmur, “That’s too bad!” The pup was punished and my mother took the hat away with many lamentations. I don't mind saying, however, that I always was fond of dogs—especially setter pups! They are “kind of” handy to have round! HELEN CARD, ’21

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10 THE QUIVER A blade so bright it dazed his foe, the Welsh, And did inspire his knights with courage new, And smote him on the head and sorely wounded Him. The foe then turned and madly fled. And Arthur stay’d the fray. And from five score And ten brave knights, three score alone were left. And Arthur grieved till Merlin blithely said, “Rejoice, for thou hast proven thyself King.” And all this while the princess, Guinevere, Looked on, and she rejoiced although she saw Him not. And he return’d to Camelot With Guinevere in mind. SORON DAMARJIAN, 21 THE TROUBLE WITH ROME For Arthur had great trouble with the kings, Who, jealous of the puissance of this youth, Made plans to overthrow his power and realm. But Arthur, growing stronger day by day, Drew all the lords and petty kings to him. And made their kingdoms and his one, and reigned. Then Rome, the fading mistress of the world, Claimed tribute from his kingdom wide and vast; But Arthur would not pay and strove with Rome, Who, all engaged with tribes of barb’rous men, Could not contend with Arthur and his knights, Who fought with supermight for Christ and king. Twelve times the armies closed in deadly strife, And many noble knights were lost to each, And neither claimed a vict’ry for its side, Till Arthur, foremost now in every fight, With his own hands in fight at Baden Mount Nine hundred and three score of heathen slew. And so from Rome were Britons ever freed, And no one doubted Arthur was the king, And so he made a realm and reigned in peace. ARTHUR B. ROBERTSHAW, 21

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12 THE QUIVER THE COMING OF THE DANES TO ASTOLAT Scene I. A meadow near Astolat. Lord of Astolat: Daughter, these times fill me with woe. We know not what moment we may be set upon by a Danish horde. Elaine: Fear not, Father, the Lord is all merciful. Lord of Astolat: Where are thy brothers? I would they were here. Methinks I hear a distant tramp; thinkest thou so? Enter servant and the two sons. Servant: Flee, my lord! Make all haste! The heathen Danes are but a few paces away. Soon they will overrun the place. I do beg thee to flee. Torre (son of Lord of Astolat) : Ay, Father, I did see them with mine own eyes. Lavaine (younger son); And I, also. Come, “Lily maid of Astolat ' this is no time to muse! Lord of Astolat: My children, to the boatman’s hut by the river! Torre, Lavaine, look to your sister. I follow after. Get thee hence. (Exeunt as the Danes enter the gate.) 1st Dane: Churl, where is thy master? 2nd Dane: Thou hadst best tell us, or thou wilt fare the worse! 3rd Dane: Make answer with haste. It profits us not to wait all day. 1st Dane: I say, what does thy master? Servant: No answer will I make. 2nd Dane: Then you’ll fare the worse for it. 1st Dane: No honor to us to slaughter this dog! Out with his tongue! 3rd Dane: Ay! I shall do it at they command. (He d.ags him one side.) 1st Dane: We will help ourselves to the spoils. (They retreat in triumph.) Scene II. Boatman’s hut. Lord of Astolat: I fear for the safety of our faithful servant. Torre: Belike he hath fallen into heathen hands. Lavaine: Nay, Father, I pray thee, give me leave to seek hint No harm can come to me. Lord of Astolat: I do not— Lavaine: Give me but one word, and I go. (Exit). Scene III. Castle yard. Lavaine: Speak, good servant, speak. How dost thou? What