Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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24 The Branksome Slogan PHANTASY I lay upon the soft green turf My cup-shaped hands did hold my head, When, lo! — my eyes beheld a path — I rose to see just where it led. Around a tuft of daisies bright, And through a glen I wandered on, I hurried, lest in loss of time I ' d waken, with the vision gone. At length upon a crystal pool I came, and there I stood, and gazed At nature ' s work, so beautiful. It left me wondering and dazed. The emeralds green, and sapphires bright, Which melted in diffusion there. And glistened in the sun that shone. Made me forget this world of care. For I was in another world From which I wakened on the grass, And roused myself in time to see My momentary vision pass. VIRGINIA PIERS (Clan Campbell). AS TIME PASSED BY One night when all was dark and still I sat upon my window sill. And watched the stars up in the sky. As time passed by. Then all at once a change occurred. The sky was dark, the stars were blurred. But soon again shone clear the sky, As time passed by. ELEANOR McDOUGALL (Clan MacGregor). THE RAINSTORM Ceaselessly beating. Never r reating. Always defeating; Yes, it ' s the rain — Sometimes crashing Ofttimes splashing. Usually dashing; Yes, it ' s the rain — Endlessly whirling, Crazily twirling, Forcefully curling; Yes, it ' s the rain — Continually pounding. Always resounding. Joyfully daunting; Yes, it ' s the rain. EDITH ELY (Clan Mac Alpine). LIFE Life is like a running brook. Running till it meets the sea. Sometimes marred by rocks and nooks, Other times it runs quite free. It has many curves and bends, But its aim is to be straight. For crookedness it makes amends, But oft-times it is too late. Sometimes it is helpful, Sometimes it does harm, So to the sea it brings, Its little song of charm. DOROTHY EDWARDS (Clan McLeod).

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The Branksome Slogan 23 CONSOLATION I have no ear for music And the master ' s note may pass me by, But the sudden murmuring of the Autumn leaves, Has power to make me sigh. When the gay clad figures have vaunted The last new hope of Fall, When with treble clear, the Autumn year, Has folded her gilded shawl, I shall find a consolation That comes to me through tears, A silent inspiration. Through the memory of years The bells are mellow and old with rust. But the words are clear through the grime and dust: Pass on. MARGARET GILMOUR (Clan MacGregor). DAWN Softly, softly with increasing light, Speeding forth with all its might. Arriving after the night owls are gone. Silently comes the beautiful dawn. Out o ' er the east a streak of white. Piercing through the blackness of night. The sun in its glory does appear. Bringing new hope and banishing fear. Then as soon as the sun can be seen. Its rays throwing out a wondrous gleam. The little birds begin to sing, Giving out happiness to everything. BARBARA THOMAS (Clan MacGregor). A SURPRISE The speckled trout his meal did spy. It was a very tempting fly. His hunger made him very bold. As you will presently be told. With one wild dash the fly he took. And found, alas ! it was a hook. JEAN STIRLING (Clan MacGregor).

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A prize, the gift of Miss Dora Thompson, was offered this year for the best essay on Toronto in 1834 . The winner is Phyllis Ritchie and the essay is as follows: — Extracts From a Diary March 4th, 1834 Father took me to the lake today to watch the men curling. Since it was a very cold day, we were grateful for a lovely dinner of steaming hot pork, potatoes (our only vegetable, unfortunately), and, as a great delicacy, sago with ginger, brought all the way from the far east. Our evening was spent with a good deal of merriment even though, as our dear friend Mrs. Jamieson says, our amusements depend purely upon the individual endeavour, or upon groups of friends. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson arrived in town last evening but were forced to spend the night in one of the inns overlooking the waterfront, simply because they were unable to find our residence in the woods. This does sound ridiculous to me, for our town is quite widely peopled, and our streets, though perhaps a little out of the ordinary, are as a rule quite easily traversed in a wagon. It was on our last trip into the country that we had any real difficulties, and with each bump of the wagon over the corduroy roads, I became more and more bruised. It really is quite trying 25