OCR Text |
Show Dear I have enjoyed your friendship this year very much and hope to have more of it next year. Signed Dear I Wish you loads of success and good luck in all your future endeavors. Signed Dear May you always remember our class and our class. They were great classes. Signed Dear Altho I didn't see very much of you this year, I hope we'll know each other better in the future. Signed Dear You've been a fine student in my classes, and if you keep up the good work I know you'll succeed. Signed Faculty Member Dear It's impossible to think of anything to say. Signed THE CAMPUS PAGEANT And we who graduate look back for one short moment upon the campus life we leave forever. The whole array passes in review; all those things that made up our college days are with us again- the classroom, the athletic field, the auditorium, the ballroom, the hours of hectic activity and the interludes of peace. We see in memory a spring afternoon on the campus. Familiar figures are all about, some lying lazily in the shade, some strolling along the walk, some frollicking in careless gaiety. Our friends all, and we relate again with sentimental attachment each one to his place in those eventful days. A moment of recognition- the the scene fades. In its place we see a crowded hall, and on the platform a figure- quiet, serene, dignified- the man who made this campus, the spirit that is Weber College our president. There also sits a row of teachers, teachers whose presence makes us feel a strange longing to learn, to understand, an impelling urge to seek that far goal of scholarship to which they have attained. The picture changes, and soft music falls upon our ears. Couples glide by, smoothly and silently, to the strains of a melody still rich to us, still haunting. The lights are dimmed, and we thrill again to the exotic closeness. The soft tones of the waltz are replaced by the rhythmic vigor of our band, and "Purple and White" swells out in the night over the expanse of a brilliant stadium. They are fighting a losing battle on the grass below, but three hundred voices inspire them to fight that battle, win or lose. And then- a fleeting glimpse, a momentary vision of a certain hallowed patch of green beneath a tree, and of a glorious hour spent with one soon to be forgotten. This is the campus pageant. These are the scenes we loved and were part of. These are the friends we knew. And no matter what our course after commencement, we who graduate will cherish these memories, these friendships, long after the actual knowledge we gained is outworn and thrown into the discard. This is page forty-nine |