Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Page 31 text:

Ths; Branksome; Slogan 29 The Basketball Team. The Settler ' s Home It sits afar back in the hills, And North winds show no mercy there, Down in the valley, around it shrills That tempest, as though fill ' d with care. It pours out its thoughts in that lone spot, And flowers hidden far below Would almost waken from their sleep, By those shrill blasts of wind and snow That only a short time ago Had lulled to let the air breath free, In that bleak, white Eternity! JOYCE TEDMAN, Form II.

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28 The; Branksome Slogan To a Puddle Ancient and Modern Dost thou dream dark-brown dreams of a puddle passing maidens, brown brother of a thousand And clattering carts, to spatter them oceans — long since dead. with mire? nursing Or dost thou think a second Raleigh next to your mud-lined Cometh heart that pitiful emblem To save another fair queen ' s fo»t of attire? wasted life — an Or dost thou smile to think on lads with eggshell. nutshells, The last spring rain finds Who make of thy small muddiness a the sea? dying puddle And cast their walnut boats upon thy a puddle waters, still. Hungering for roses, Only to founder where thy tempests ling ering by its be. side — an onion is dying — ■ and a foetid aura Stay — dost thou ponder on thine ageless surrounds its splendor, death. Returning to the heavens, turned to Still the rain — puddle oozes over An airy cloud, with all earth for its foot- the cracked pavement stool — into the Only to come to thine own mud gutter! again. L. TEDMAN, Form V. To illustrate the almost incomprehensible change from the easily understood poetry of former times, to the strange, unintelligible words and strings of words which go to make up modern poetry.

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30 The Branksome Slogan Firelight Fancies When the night wind goes a-crying Through the tree-tops that are dying, And within the fire is burning red and low, Familiar hands upon the keys, Play old forgotten melodies Of romance and high adventure in the days of long ago. Songs of knights in armor shining, And of captive maidens pining In a grim enchanted castle lying lonely by the sea; And the spell remains unbroken Till the secret word is spoken, By the bravest knight in all the world, who comes to set them free. Now it murmurs of the greenwood, ' Neath the shady trees of Sherwood, And Robin ' s horn is calling as it did in days gone by; Friar Tuck and Little John, All the merry outlaw throng. In Lincoln green, are hastening to the echo of his cry. Then a song of buried treasure, And of wealth beyond all measure. A pirate crew — the Jolly Roger flap- ping in the breeze; To the Spanish Main! my lads-hol And the gold of Eldorado! Hidden deep within a cavern far across the Western seas. Hushed the song, and still the fingers, But the memory ever lingers In the hearts of those who love the age-old tales of gallant men, And the glamor of their glory. In the magic of the fire-lit embers seems to live again. Departing Day O ' er fields and woods a mellow light has The tranquil world, crowned by the fallen, azure heavens. The winds through pine trees whisper Watches a death, a death that no one soft and low, knows. The flowers bow their heads in Nature ' s As still triumphant in its glorious reverence, mystery. As day departs in sunset ' s beauteous On to eternity the new day goes, glow. BETTY REED, Form 11.