Oakwood Collegiate Institute - Oracle Yearbook (Toronto Ontario, Canada)

Page 42 text:

THE OAKWOOD ORACLE ilBnstir ililreroritp I am fond of writing poetry Iliatribe or homily With metaphor and simile llivine -Xnd I have yet to see a Piece of onomatopaea Like to mine, I adore expressing verbally, Synechdoche hyperbole, Or building' up the ecstasy Of a climactic line. I'm superb at writing dimiter, Iambic or pentameter, Anapaestic trimiter, Trochaic or hexameter, I admit. And tho' nothing bores me worse Like the moderns I am terse And can stoop to write free verse llooks of it, Give me a baby's bonnet, I can write a sonnet on it, Quatrain, lyric, epic, or an ode, I can be impressionistic, Archaic, futuristic, If to be obscure and mystic is the mode, QW W1 'tiixllif I 1 I can be Shakesperian, Tennyson- ian, Spenserian, Miltonian, Or Byronicg I can be prophetic, Soporific or athletic, Patriotic or pathetic, Or laconic, It is very sweet, To calculate the feet In a line, But I know of nothing sweeter, Than working out the metre, And the rhyme I make no pretention, If you ever mention Scansion, I'm a-hop, There is no limit to my art, And when once I start, I am so very smart, I can rhyme until I dropg But I shall not degrade my ditty. By condescending to be witty, Ineffectual or pretty, So I stop. I sms X if li i, ,fx l f Encf VA l lrD.- HIC HAEC Hoc HUJU6' FI u.1us........ Page Tlifrfy-out

Page 41 text:

TH E OAKWOOD ORACLE The Qllripple A child, I sat with wondering eye And watched the bustling world go by. No happy children round me played, Nor notice took, save one wee maid Who pity in her heart discerned, And sympathized where others spurned. She led me up to hills on high, Where we watched clouds and men go by- All passing by '.,..,..... .. We two grew upg she to her friends. The wealth, the beauty Fortune sends To those on whom she smiles, but not To us who bear a bitter lot. My heart for her in love had burned, My inner soul had silent yearned ............ The one she chose was strong, and tall, They often pass within my call- Together ............ passing by ......... I'm growing old, I cannot see The things that once were dear to me: The towering hills, the billowing clouds That we had called the angel's shroudsf' In my imprisoning shack I stay, Thinking, brooding, each long day, Then I turn my sightlcss eyes again To the street whence comes the tread of men, Forever ............ passing by .......,.... -JONAHOLD. Clliseruein Qauintus Oh Fifth Former, why do you hesitate '? Why do you remain here and waste your time 7 How many times have you come here without your home-work done? I do not order you to leave school and go to work, but if you consult me, I ad- vise it. Your indifference to your many crimes of skipping school has thrown you very far behind in your work. Not only do you not pay attention, but also you disturb the class. Ilo you think that you will pass the examinations by just ljflfjl' T11 iffy sitting in the room for a year 'Z Moreover, oh Lazy One, you would think that I am the one who must write this examination. What shall I say of the fact that for the pur- pose of avoiding suspicion you slylv feign sickness? Nevertheless I will not cause you to understand what the teachers think of you. And yet why do I speak? in order that you may ever reform. Would that the mortal gods would inspire you with ambition! D.K. V.A.C.

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rm: OAKWOOD oimenn Qlibe QBID Qliarpet Slipper A sole-ful ballad with a slap up-to-date theme. Tune: The Old Oaken Bucket llow dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood. When fond recollection presents them to view The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild wood, And ev'ry loved spot which my infancy knew. The swimmin' 'ole too, where my father oft caught me. The ramshackle woodshed-I know it so well- When into its shadows at twilight he brought me, And with his old slipper lambasted me well. His old carpet slipper, his leather-soled slipper, His flat-bottomed slipper that sure made me yell. That number nine slipper that caught me while bending Across father's knee with my face to the floor: I wriggled and squirmed as I heard it descending, The vivid remembrance e'en now makes me sore. And once when he found me, alas! playing hookey, He drew me aside with a smile I knew well, Then into the woodshed in silence he took me, And the slipper came down. I was there when it fell. The old carpet slipper, the hard-tanned old slipper, The heavy-weight slipper that sure made me yell. llow flat was its sole, and how sharp was the impact, When on my frail carcass it came with a flop! llow fain would I oft have withdrawn from its contact, And held my breath hard for that slipper to drop. lC'en now, as I think of those days long departed, The hot, scalding tears cause my eyelids to swell, .Xs mem'ry reverts to the times I have smarted Beneath that old slipper dad handled so well. That old carpet slipper, that tough-soled old slippei That hard, heavy slipper that sure made me yell. A.P. , - ' ' .ff . ,7f74Cf if f V, ll ft - 4 f 'N 12? V ff ,, VFW Pllljf' Tllfrly-Two