St Johns Ravenscourt School - Eagle Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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PURPOSE A.E.H. Like a Lark the morning rises Painting crimson chariots, The clouds fly fast across the sky, What know they or human lots? Lots and lots of humans go, Toward the Happy Hunting Ground But placidly the morning rises, Lighting the land around. The silent youth wanders Near the edge of Night; Wet reflections on the pavement Show the changing shades of light. Endlessly he paces between Rows on rows of elms; The reflections recalled reflections Of lights of long ago. The sunrise is a hypocrite, Promising a world unchained, Sunset seems the truer sky, Representing all man’s gains. DAVID GARGETT - FORM VI ODE TO THE NORTH WIND Quietly he wondered how Things had come to be; A crash had crushed all His hopes and all he hoped to be. The eve had become the night And the night became the dawn; He wandered till the silver dusk Had filled the night with dawn. Now breezes blow brassy horn But cornet, trumpet, bugle Have not ever to these ears born So orchestrated fugal Sound. And now the wind is north and cold Short, hard, harsh, bold Too, the south bound of old. With a full intension of freezing stiff The anti-arctic shivering populace who used to strive Like zealots of folly, against the riff Sounded by first drain” trumpet men; the trum¬ pet is alive! Pearcing those aesthetic and creative men Who dare to abstruct its chill and windy wend, The owl for all his feathers was a cold”, to mend. Now this uncool predicament of the greatest Bird, One swings to the shelter of the avant-garde from the whistling northern sting: Tchicai, Rudd, Ayler A., Graves, Ayler D. These gloriously wind defying, cold checking, instru¬ mental saviours sing; Their time will upstage and out blow the icy gale. They play rightly; teaching: . . .not born for death, immortal Bird! in their truthful tale. Now we hear moanin’ low, the swan’s cry north — south sail. JIM RAMSAY - FORM VI THE GUARD Deep beneath the prison walls In a dungeon damp and gray, Wrinkled with age, And wet with sweat, Old Sole, the keeper, goes Pacing the corridors up and down With only contempt and dismay Checking, prying, but not speaking The Guard goes on his way: Seeing the musty dingy cells Where everyone wishes him not so well While the anthracite floor needs a scrub And the hand-carved woodwork needs a rub The battered-up doorways need repair And the stagnant hallways need some air The hallway walls need some new moss Old Sole feels chained to an albatross And then what is it that one can see? Why sure enough they’ve all got free The doors are thrown open And the light streams in A cool puff of air causes a wind The night transforms into day Old Sole still wants to stay. DARRELL LAIRD PETER SHEEN - FORM VI -FORM VI 66

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tomorrow’s world. To be able to walk along St. Paul Street, the oldest road in the city, noting where the city’s east wall once was and where the Chateau de Ramezaz was built, off St. Claude Street, and then for the pedestrian to board the recently extended Montreal Subway, to dismount shortly in the heart of Expo, the grapes of our future by way of the present. This span is a real addition to our life. The years 1867 through 1967 have been the intro¬ duction to the Canadian nation. The Montreal World’s Fair valuable as it is as a promoter of new ideas, still, it does play the role of ending that introduction and her¬ alding the essentially more important second stage. Ture, much has been accomplished in our first hundred years but this is only the feeble beginning, the future holds the prospect for so much more progress, Expo, in its glorious portrayal of Canada’s history is saluting the termination of a period. Whereas Expo in its vast displays and exhibits of the latest in architecture, science and all fields of man’s world, is welcoming a fresh era. The farewell and the welcome are beautifully blended into one; new foundations are being laid on historic Montreal. Finally, as a student in his last year of school, I wish to go to Expo. How important it is that every student in Canada should be exposed to, and therefore be a part of, this World’s Fair. My generation will pioneer the second century of Canada’s history. To begin in such a flame of glory it would be tragic to end in ashes. A trip to Montreal in 1967 will invigorate Can¬ adians, motivate ambitions, and remain an event to be cherished and remembered all one’s life. If every young Canadian went to Expo ’67, they would not let the flame” die, for they would be proudly aware of their heritage. Thus, Expo ’67 is a point of departure, firstly; a stimulus and an impetus for Canada and the world. And I would like to contribute to its success. DARREL LAIRD FORM VI ODE TO AGE When life is bottled as wine Her savouries sweet of all the Rhine Are looked away for quite some time To mature and then to shine. When age with glory beams aloud Life’s meant to throb and not to shroud, The day is light and not of cloud. The eyes look up and still are proud. Life is hardened by the march There’s strength through age, arch through arch, The scorns of time, they try to parch And blast old age and all its starch. But truth is strong and age is true As granite stands as storms pursue, Some may crumble but only few Most age dwells on and wholesome too. The duel is fierce but age is brave The tol of time on age doth rave, The whips of life in age doth clave The epitaph and then the grave. DAVID JAMES - FORM VI The beauty of it strikes me Like a knife striking home. Its big bright burning blade As it eats into my body. There is a gnawing and gnashing of teeth As I pull the very pain from out of me. Bang! It knocks me down. It turns me mellow yellow Like an electrified banana. This is the clinching sentence Which runs through my poem As the Nile through Egypt. My poem will be rejected As Socrates. Too bad. My rhyme Is out of spite. Oh, that this Too, too solid poem would melt. GORDON WYATT - FORM VI 65

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