Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Page 27 text:

APRIL FOOL One April day, the first of all, There was some fun at Branksome Hall. Miss Read did feel exceeding gay, And so a trick on us did play. 0 chocolate cake, O chocolate cake, Who would have thought you were a fake? 1 raised my knife, Miss Read did grin. It wouldn ' t cut, ' twas only tin ! The moral is, my little man, That frosting oft conceals a pan. K. STAMBOUGH, Form V S. REPRIEVE Upon a moon-lit couch I lay Watched the stars in the sky at play. They seemed to be caught in a gauzy net, Oh, caught is a word for a soul beset, Beset by tortures devil-sent. That sear my soul till I repent. Forgiveness given, I have my prize. Have gained at last my paradise. PEGGY ESSERY. Form V. THE CLAN MacALPINE The motto and war-cry of the MacAlpines is : ' ' Remember the death of Alpin . This refers to the murder of King Alpin at the hands of another clan. The motto appears on the crest and is worn in the bonnet along with the badge, a Scotch pine. At our school farm, Clansdale Heights, the MacAlpines have planted a Scotch pine. It stands in front of the house, near the driveway, to remind us, as it roots itself deep in the earth and raises its branches to the skies, to strive up and on and ever to ' ' Keep Well the Road . BARBARA WAITE, Form IV. 23

Page 26 text:

22 The Branksome Slogan Rain It had been raining all day and now that it was dark, the sound of the rain splashing on th e glistening pavement seemed to take on a more mournful tone. Several pedestrians passed back and forth with heads bent forward and collars turned up. Their faces were invisible. The somewhat old-fashioned street lamps stood up straight and tall on each corner, patient and brave in their dreary state. The shops withdrew into themselves and a few lights appeared dimly in the uncurtained second-story windows. On the corner, stood a young girl in a black cloth coat which was sopping up the rain like a blotter. Her drooping hat hid her profile, and the water dripped from the brim, and ran down her cheeks and neck, where long strands of dark hair clung to her skin. Her stockings glistened against her ankles and her shoes were obviously old and worn down. Her pale hands clutched an old battered bag which appeared flat and empty-looking. In truth, it contained all of seven cents, enough for one street-car ticket. Soon, the street-car would come humming along the slippery tracks, but the girl had no thought as to how soon that would be. She had spent days looking for some kind of work but there was nothing for her. Now she was without a home, friends and food. Her head was not bowed but held high and her face was lifted as if to receive the gentle warm strokes of the falling rain. She wore the expression of bitter victory and on her lips was a sad, weary smile. If there were tears, they were mingled with the rain and washed away, but she was not unhappy. In her heart there was a song, to her eyes there was beauty in everything. Suddenly, she knew that it was God. She was at peace. MILDRED WINSLOW, Form V S.

Page 28 text:

LAND OF BEAUTY Along the ridge of silent hills, And waters pure and blue, I love to wander all the while On Nature ' s soil, don ' t you? My house is on a small green hill, Tall trees are all around. And close to it a small grey bridge Ajoining the smooth ground. And there upon the little bridge I often love to stand And watch the rippling waters flow Along the fresh white sand. And now I have to go away And leave my childhood ' s place, Oh! how I ' ll miss this tiny world Of beauty and of grace. JEAN SUTHERLAND, Form II B. IRISH Lanky wolfhound, Tintern Banshee, Irish was her name for short, Ne ' er a dog was better than she. Ne ' er a pal of better sort. Gentle-natured, tender-hearted. Loved the young and loved the old. Longed to come when we departed. Always did as she was told. She is gone though, to the land of Everlasting garbage heaps. Now she chases fat jack-rabbits, While, on earth, our family weeps. FRANCEAN CAMPBELL, Form III A. 24