Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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The Branksome Slogan 23 A Legend The story of the Occident And how it got its name, Is very like the camel ' s hump, Which rose so high to fame. Once, long ago, the Orient Was highly civilized; Its sailors scoured the fartherest seas. Their trophies v ere so prized. And one bold captain sailed so far, Beneath the pale moonlight, He found the West by Accident And christened it that night. CAROLINE BULL, Form V. Coral Wool I w ind a ball of coral w ool And think of a sea-shell, glistening, cool. I knit a stitch of the glow ing thread, And dream of the sun ' s path over- head. With needles of jade I can fashion a shawl. And a soft, playful kitten can worry my ball ; So I knit in a little of coral wool To recapture the thoug ht of a sunlit pool. WILMA BATE, Form V. Evening The sky in the West is crimson and gold. The day that was new now becomes old. The sun which sees both joy and sorrow, Sinks with a smile that says : See you tomorrow. The lanterns of heaven hang high in the sky. The wind in the tall trees just seems to sigh. All work and harsh noises of daytime cease. All is silent and the world is at peace. BETTY GORDON, Form IV (Clan Douglas). Things I Like the Best These are things I like the best, — Golden sands on which to rest. Great white breakers tumbling in, Water warm in which to swim. My own horse on which to ride, My own dog to run beside, My own room in my own style, With my own books to browse awhile. Summer sports and winter too, Camping trips with my canoe. Tramping hills in winter snow, Skiing, hockey, — cheeks aglow. And now I think it is time for me To go and lie beside the sea. Until somebody comes to say, ' Tis time for me to work today. EDITH KIRK. Form II A.

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22 The Branksome) Slogan In the last verse she visualizes their final reward for their complete sacrifice. ' ' They who had all, gave all. Their half-writ story Lies in the empty halls they knew so well. But they, the knights of God, shall see His glory, And find the Grail ev ' n in the fields of hell. Another poem like Subalterns is The Spires of Oxford, by Winifred Letts. The author is passing through Oxford when she sees the grey spires of Oxford against the pearl-grey sky. Seeing the spires, she is reminded of the men who left their happy University life and went abroad to die. Rudyard Kipling wrote two poems during the war which, although not as beautiful as some, are very good. These two poems are : For All We Have and Are and Who Dies if England Live. In these poems he exhorts the young men of England to fight to the utmost for the Motherland. A famous war poem, In Flanders Fields, was written by a Canadian, John McCrae. The author, who was on active service, died a few months later. The poem needs no introduction or explanation. In Flanders fields, the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row That mark our place ; and in the sky The larks still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow. Loved and were loved, and now we Ue In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe, To you from failing hands we throw The torch: be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. The beauty of the poetry written during the war lies in its interpretation of the noble self-sacrifice, unfailing endurance, unflinching courage and flaming patriotism of the young men of England who went to the front. This poetry shows the attitude of scorn which existed to this age and how gloriously it was refuted. These gave their lives away, Poured out the red, sweet wine of youth. — Rupert Brooke. MARY BECKER, Form V (Clan Ross).

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24 Th Branksome S1.0GAN Sporting Difficulties There is a catch of nasty sort In whatsoever line of sport. With golf the caddies are not kind, And balls are very hard to find. In swimming, water ' s very cold And waves are really far too bold. At football you are kicked around; At bridge you cannot make a sound. But far the hardest sport of all Is driving cars — they always stall! Start up the engine with a din, It stops before the clutch is in. Dig in the clutch and change the gear ! Accelerate ! it ' s very clear. Let out the clutch ! A bit too late— The car behind has found its fate. Before you ' re half way down the street You ' re getting muddled with your feet. Just at the bend the world turns blue — You ' ve met a car — your Waterloo. A passing lorry forms a wedge Which pins you tight into the hedge. You then begin to swear and cuss And turn right over, which is wuss. And so, though tennis seems too fast, And croquet keenness cannot last, There simply isn ' t any doubt But driving cars should be ruled out. CAROLINE BULL, Form V. After the Rain Fitter, patter, drops the rain, Gently on the window-pane, Softly to the buds below, Just to let the flowers know, Winter ' s over, spring is here. And to the sick they seem to say: We too have had our lonely day. So cheer up ! Never mind ! For I am sure that you will find That after rain the sun will shine, And now it ' s their turn to bring cheer. And gladden your heart just as mine. ' JEAN MACDONALD, Form I A (Clan Stewart).