Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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In Chapel A beam of light slants through the High arched windows of many coloured glass, Falling on the golden Cross. On the altar, silk, silver and candles, Tipped with a shimmering aura Radiant reflections from the jewelled Cross. Volume, rich and full, the organ, High treble voices soar like rising wind, Below - deep bass rumble. Silence Prayers intoned to a Bowed congregation. Then the mighty organ rises, With triumphant trumpets And Chapel is over. f B. G. If. Hughes After Chapel Dark cloacked figures, moving across the Desolate Grassy Plain. After a blasphemous meeting with God. Barely discernible in the Gathering, Sepia Gloom. On their way to a few moments of freedom. Before the ritual of Bells - Silence. Bells - Noise. Bells - Silence Darkness. But seldom does the Action Cease. - C. 71 Maynard To C.T.M. Oh boy of might and man to be, You should have brawn and muscle to see! And even though you're everyone's buddy, There's a rumour around thatyou're a bit chubby. In everything you're an all round fellow, But on the Held you're more like jello. Even when everyone else is sad You can laugh, and laugh and even go mad. But even though you give many a sign You're still all right and quite a guy! - I. ll'. .llunn Page IOQ

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Autumn Wood I cannot walk quickly through a wood. If I did I would let many things go by. I would miss the rustling of the leaves and the scurrying, fluttering sounds of the smallest animals. Iwould not notice the squirrels tossing their nutshells from the high branches or the stone-stiff heron atop the dead. old tree at the fork in the path. I am thinking of a particular wood now, where there is often a heron, standing perfectly still and absolutely silent, watching, waiting for some reason to move. Why should he move? He has no appointments to keep. Finally though, he would lift himself from his high perch and begin his lazy, wheeling, flight toward the blue, reedy lake where he waits againg this time for dinner, or to seek another of his own kind. I have many routes to choose through this wood. I could follow the gravel road, and feel the soft crunching of the worn stones beneath my feet. I could follow the road to the farm, and see it, shining white in the sun. Or I can tread along the old, leaf-covered logging road towards the crumbling stile, and then into the thick wood itself where I come face to face with raw natureg a huge buzzing hive of the very fattest wild bees. The fascination of the wood is only for the few. those people who can walk slowly are the only ones who can appreciate the wonders of the autumn wood. - 71 W Gough One Day In The Life of William William was a priestg not a very big priest, mind you. He was only about an inch high in a tin can cathedral. His entire life was devoted to prayer. This particular morning he was giving Com- munion to a colony of ants. He was a pathetic figure silhouetted against the clinging, decaying lumps of dog food. An old bottle of We1ch's Grape Juice did nicely for the wine with some four-day old Wonder Bread to follow up. Each confirmed ant came up to the altar and took his commumon. Morning Communion completed, he went on the warpath for lunch. He came upon a fat glrasshopper. Blessed him. Murdered him and ate im. Then, licking his lips, William went into a period of dormant digestion until nightfall. When he awoke, he went about straightening the cathedral for the next morning's service. This finished, he took his post among the dog food lumps, and took up his tuneful singing. William is a praying mantis. - R D. Gordon Page I IO