Yeshiva University High School For Boys - Elchanite Yearbook (New York, NY)

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DECAY By MarTin D. Keller And There came a plague . . . The cry oT The aTTlicTed was heard Trom Dan To Beer-Sheba, Trom The depThs oT The grave To heavens dome. YeT The harvesT was bounTiTul: Trom The earTh sprang TorTh The golden billowing waves oT grain. The TruiTs OT indusTry were abundanT1 a sTeady sTream oT produce poured TorTh Trom TacTory and shop. For This was noT a plague oT locusT, nor oT pesTilence, nor oT hunger, nor oT droughT. IT was none oT These. YeT man was Tamished, and The mulTiTudes were parched wiTh ThirsT. Man was bowed down, crushed beneaTh The burden oT his sorrows. For he had creaTed a ServanT. And iT had grown sTrong, and bursT iTs TeTTers, and lo! lT was masTer and man was The slave. No sunlighT peneTraTes The darkness oT The slums, oT The greaT meTropolis. Side by side, wiTh The grandeur of The cloud-capped mounTains oT sTeel and sTone. sTands This symbol oT man's degradaTion. ln a liTTle room, in The cenTer oT This TiITh and squalor siTs a small man, benT, The despair oT cenTuries wriTTen in The deep lines oT his wiThered Tace, and he speaks:- My Triend was a mild man, and he lived and did as he was Told. LasT year he began To cough and spiT blood, and he was Told ThaT he was no longer needed aT The place where he worked. He wenT home, and he cried. He was a sTrong man, a big man, and when he cried like a child, iT was sTrange and Terrible. LasT week his wife Took sick. He wenT down To The sTore To geT some milk and bread. He was noT The same man. His Tace was yellow, and his eyes were dim. He was benT, and Thin, and worn. He had no money. They said, 'NOT' He said he would work Tor The Tood, buT They sTill said, 'NOT' Slowly, he Turned and walked ouT oT The sTore and down Toward The shop, where he used To work. He sTood up sTraighT, and shouTed. He cursed and cried, and casT bricks aT The shop, unTil They Took him away. He died in a cell The nexT morning. His broTher sorrowed Tor him. He lisTened To a man speaking on a box, in a public place. He joined This man's group. He didn'T wish To waiT like his broTher. He wanTed To acT, To do Things, To TighT. MeeTings were held, and we were Told ThaT The Time had come Tor us To TighT and casT The Ercnfwire Wm ii viii Y iWTg,IyQ,Q

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can There ever be gained on earfh The knowledge we grasped so quickly affer deafh. Then shall fhe frue peace come - fhe peace of living men, when fhe land shall be worked and men shall love, and ideas shall progress foward fheir Creafor. Then - shall we foo, live. The boy above proceeded unmolesfed fo fhe recruifing office in fhe village and answered haughfily, fearlessly, as fhe churlish voice sfabbed: Name? DUST By Morfimer J. Rubin Thaf man comes from dusf, And fo dusf will refurn, Wifh fhaf ancienf adage I have no more concern Since fafe so decreed, Thaf is a final page. Of whaf avail appeal By prophef or by sage? Sfill fhaf decree. Though final in scope, Bears in ifs making A fair ray of hope. Coming from dusf, ere To dusf we are senf, There is in befween A pause fo fermenf. A pause fo creafe, To grow, fo mafure, Thaf a mere speck of dusf May long well endure. In ancienf walls Of learning Fires of Torah flicker Yef burning. Sifs fhe sfudenf As of yore Delves info Torah Law and lore. Gazes info fhe flame's Dying embers THE ETERNAL FLAME Sfirred, He fhinks Remebers. Of a world oufside Calling Serene, beaufiful Yef appalling, Of charming ensnaring Offers Of luring enficing Proffers The Torah calls To reckoning Tenaciously whispering Beckoning. By Saul Leifer Quickly approaches The onslaughf Decisively fhe baffle ls foughf. The pleasure of many He decries 'Tis inane, foolish He sighs. Thoughfs of Torah He minds Mundane fhings He rescinds. He refurns once more To his desire The flame bursfs again lnfo efernal fire. Thfffv ELCHANWE

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yoke Trorn our shoulders. BUT, big men in uniTorms came and They beaT The leaders, and They killed my Triend's broTher. Unite l heard a wise man speak, and he said ThaT he knew The Cause oT all our Troubles, and ThaT our problems Could easily be solved, iT we would open our eyes and look abouT us, and undersTand our plighT. I heard anoTher man say ThaT looking and undersTanding were noT enough. We musT acT. Only blood. and Tire, and sTeel could win our baTTle. l am no wise man, nor am l well inTormed. All l know is ThaT l dc noT know The workings oT The world. My TaTher used To say, ThaT in ancienT days There was a small blankeT, and iT could noT cover all, and many were cold. Now The blankeT is big. lT is big enough Tor all, buT a Tew roll iT round Themselves many Times, while we are sTill cold. LasT week There was anoTher man sTanding on a box, a poor box noT made Tor sTanding. And he was Talking To us. l-le said we were sTrong, sTronger Than we had ever dreamed. We had buT To realize This and we could rise and live. l-le said, There was going To be a war, Tor our leaders had beTrayed us. They had sacriTic:ed us on The alTars oT Their power. We musT noT TighT This war. We musT TighT a war againsT our Talse leaders. BuT big men, in The crowd, big men wiTh hard Taces, called him many names, names l didn'T undersTand. They pulled him oTT his box, and They beaT him, and he Tell, bleeding. Then one oT Them was hoisTed on The shoulders oT his Tellows. Flags waved, bands played marching music, and he spoke To us, and Told us To go home and TorgeT whaT we had heard. For ThaT man had been our enemy. l-le was going To rob us oT our belongings and Take away our righTs. So l don'T know whaT is TruTh, and whaT is righT. l am Told To do my work, and believe, and wa'iT. and someday l shall be blessed. BUT l am conTused, I cannoT undersTand. They Tell me we are noT alone. They say There are people like us all over The world. and noT only in The ciTies, buT on The Tarms and in The mines, everywhere. ' . l don'T know whaT To Thinklu A shorT disTance away in an immense building, in a room oT regal splendor siTs a TaT man, wiTh counTless chins, and a Tremendous paunch. He chews a big cigar and lisTens TearTully To The Voice:- 'You now have whaT you have always wanTed, power and wealTh. BuT iT is noT The way you really wanTed iT. WiTh iT has come a sorT oT mania. You cannoT resT. You musT keep on hoarding, grabbing, baTTling .... There is no endl You have losT all human qualiTies. You have reTained Tear and greed. You are aTraid oT The liTTle Tellows, who someday may rise, and Turn on you, wiTh ThirTyVTwo ELCHANITE