jg/    THE KENTUCKIAN   XJfc/TjTxjJk		1
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			Senior Class Poem		1
			The sky is blue today.		
			Eyes smile and lieads are High and proudit is The Day. Even solemn faces are relaxed:		
			It is the victory, the end		                   1
			Of struggle and desire.		*        I
			Four years ago a plant		3              1
			Took root in fertile soil and grew;		i
			The wind, the sun, the ruin, the light, all nurtured it, until		
			At length, it blossomed,		
1			And the bud gave promise of a flower over sweet.		
			The elements, its mothers, found in it		
			A joy and a most thankful pride;		
			And wlien it burst into its fullest bloom		I
			They had reward for all their tireless effort.		
			It bloomed and, throughout a year or more,		
			Its flower was a joy to all who saw;		
			But on the day taken victory was declared		
V			It withered, dried and faded all away,		
v			Until that evening, as a warm breeze blew		
			To cool the flushed cheeks of the merry victors,		
			Us seeds were scattered over all the earth,		i
			And the dead stalk left standing all alone.		
			The next day when the gallant heroes came		
2.			They saw naught but this old dead stalk,		
			Which reminiscencing could not prevail upon		}      1
			To return unto its former glory.		
			It was a dead thing never to bloom again.		
*			And yet they were not sad for long		i
			A truer, surer knowledge made them smile,		
			And look witli only pity on the stalk		
			// was the mother from lahose fruitful womb		
1			Children of wisdom had come forth and gone		1
			Into all parts of the world, there to take root		
			And create other young ones;		
			Each with his work to do,		
\			Each to be torn from his mother's breast to serve		//     1
			A world thirsting for wisdom and power,		
			And only to blossom in full glory		
			For a time, then to make way for others.		i
			The plant scorned the gazer's pity; it alone		
			Knew the secret of its reward,		
			And was content.		
			*    *    * The sky is gray today,		
			Hands tremble and white lieads are		
			Brought low; it is the years. Yet as we move to that		i
			'Far off divine  event',		
			Let us find youth unspoiled,		
I			Always the best to be, and always once more,		i
			The splendor and the pain		
			Of thinking the old earth trembles at our feet.		
			Mrs. Melvina Heavenridge Pumphrey,		
			Senior Class Poet.		I
					
					
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