Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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22 The Branksome Slogan The Rescue of the Woods He wandered o ' er the southern hills, ' Cross daisy fields and sparkling rills, Where vines and creepers twined like lace. Yet never saw their magic grace. For as he hurried more and more His soul was burnt, his heart was sore : Within his breast there smouldered still, A bitterness, a mental ill. ' ' What have I done that I should be The butt of human cruelty ? He cried. Has one of other name Transferred the stinging, sneering blame Upon an innocent, who feared To do that which is wrong; revered The laws of goodness, righteousness — Who had no shame he could confess ? The bitterness, reproach, and hate They flung at him! He could not wait To hear their hard words — no man could : He fled, an outcast, to the wood. Where should he go? He did not know, Death seemed rather a friend than foe : No one to cheer him, understand, Hatred and curses filled the land. So, wandering, his sightless eyes, Staring upon the far sunrise, He came within a little bower Where every bud had burst to flower. Where dainty ferns and mosses sprang. Where crickets shrilled, and sweet birds sang; And as he sank upon a log They lifted slowly, mist and fog. He saw the peace and beauty round, The tiny violets on the ground. At last he ' d found the quiet he sought, He sat that day wrapped up in thought. And when the sun went down to rest. When birdlings hurried home to nest — He backward trudged towards the town. Resolved to try and live it down. Three short weeks later, he returned, A different man, whose brown eyes burned With love of hfe. He came to bless And thank the wooids for his success. KATHARINE CANNON (Clan Ross).

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The Branksome Slogan 21 Harvest September is a harvest time, The perfect mionth to mafce up rhyme. In the city or in a town The grass takes on a coat of brown. The birds in hundreds flock together To find new homes and sunny weather. The harvest fields are bleak and bare, Content that they have done their share. The leaves turn red and brown and gold, Much too beautiful to be told. The snow will soon be on the ground To cover up the things around. BETTY HARRISON (Clan MacLean). The Brook Bubbling and gurgling every day, The little brook goes on its way. Ruiming onward, over the stones, Singing all sorts of beautiful tunes. Trout lose ithemselves in its gurgling stream. That they may hide their silvery gleam. They swirl and curl o ' er its foamy crests. While the silver scales shine on their breasts. The current, it dips, over and under. While all water plants are torn asunder. BETTY JEWETT (Clan Campbell). The Skirmish Fiercely raged the battle That tragic mournful day. The broken swords did rattle And many -wounded lay. The pistol shots were many ' s knell When gallant captains the charges led. Then loudly rang a clanging bell The little boys went home to bed. PATRICIA GIBBONS (Clan MacEean). Morning Joy Yonder on the distant hill I hear the grinding of the mill. The sky above is azure blue. And clouds roll by in purple hue. Then in the mom I rise and hear The birds, that sing so sweet and clear. Oh ! what a joy this world can give To those who find out how to live. ELIZABETH EEWIN ( Clan MacAlpine) .

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The Branksome Si ogan 23 To a River Oh, mighty river rolling along With ever a ripple and ever a song, Where is thy ending and how do you start ? But that is a secret you ' ll never im- part. With a rumble and roar you go on as before, Rushing by ebns that stand on the shore ; They v rither and die and the decades go by, But thou, miighty river, will always pass by. MILIvIOENT RAYMOND (Clan Campbell). Spring Fever Spring is here ! I saw a tulip Just arisen from its bed, While the boisterous early zephyrs Toss ' d around its yellow head. In my window, lilting, dancing, Came a clear discordant din, Jumbled notes in sweet abandon Chasing one another in! I looked upon my desk with loathing, Wishing to throw off my fetters. Then in a moment otf mad frolic, I scattered far and wide my letters. GWYNNETH SINCLAIR (iClan MacGregor). Tro It ' s not hard to be happy and bright When everything is going right. But when your bright skies turn to gray, It ' s not so easy to be gay. But I ' m sure you ' ll find if you wish to be gay. That by thinking of others some time in your day, Their trials and their sorrows, their grief and despair, And by doing your bit tO ' ease their care Your own will seem small, and easy to bear. JEAN MACDONALD (Clan Stewart).