Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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THE STARS Small, twinkling lamps? To me they seem All-seeing, cold, sharp eyes That pierce the Soul — a stony gleam Of gems in velvet skies, An awesome sight, and terrible. So vast, So distant, and so set — that sapphire deep — But Beauty leaves her mark there to the last Oh God, behold Thy Work ! So let us sleep. SUSAN GOULDING, Form III A. A POOR MAN ' S POSSESSIONS A heart I have, that thrills to light, And Life, wind, scented bowers, The naked stars, the moon — that bright Pilot of midnight hours. A voice I have, that lifts in praise Of all things Nature-born — The rustling trees a song can raise At red dawn — dew-eyed morn. And eyes I have, that see these things Beyond a muddied world, Where gaunt grey buildings tell of kings. And nations ' flags unfurled. A soul I have, a memory For treasures — seeds now sown ; This is enough for me to keep As it is all I own. SUSAN GOULDING, Form III A. THE MOON A midnight breeze is but A silver whisper of the Moon — That pale, sweet lady who reigns o ' er deep skies, And looks with saddened scorn On Life, with tears on Love, and soon Sinks to a weary sleep as dark night flies. SUSAN GOULDING, Form III A.

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The Branksome Slogan 21 The Story of a Short Life When little Percy was put in my arms for the first time, a warm, happy feeling surged through me. Here was the puppy I had longed for all my life. He was a mongrel with a tiny pink tongue and merry, laughing, brown eyes. Oh, how proud I was of this mischievous ball of black fur and how jealous my playmates were of me when I showed him off that day ! My sister and I were very much dejected on learning that Percy could not sleep with us that night, but we consoled ourselves with the fact that we could see him the following morning. At one o ' clock, I was awakened by the sound of pitiful howls issuing forth from the kitchen. What was the matter with Percy? I got up and pattered barefoot down the stairs. As I opened the door, I saw, sitting in the middle of the floor, the most forlorn- looking specimen. The two hours spent that night on a stool with Percy in my arms marked the beginning of a real and ever-increasing understanding between us. Percy was not altogether a joy at the beginning of his career. To come home from school and find a much-loved book wrenched from the book- case and torn and chewed, or a pair of new bedroom slippers completely ruined by a sharp set of teeth, was no great pleasure. Even then, the hardest thing to do was to punish him. With tightly-closed eyes I would spank him, scold him, and put him in his box. Full well did I know that if I dared look into his sorrowful, penitent eyes, all he would get for his naughtiness would be an affectionate hug and squeeze. I confided everything to Percy and, dog-like, he seemed to understand. When I was sick he would play ball with me or, if I preferred, just lie on my bed and let me gently rub his ear. When I told him some good news he would throw one ear back and his eyes would sparkle with excitement and anticipation. He had a keen sense of humour and would sit grinning at me with laughing eyes while he watched me discover some silly trick he had played. One day I took him for a walk in Forest Hill Village. I have since terribly regretted the fact that I did not take him on a leash, but he had never before needed one as he always walked or scampered at my heels. However, this time he darted across the road. I whistled for him but continued on my way. Suddenly, I heard a grinding of brakes, a sickening thud, an agonizing yelp. Horror-stricken, I turned. Percy was in the middle of the road yelping and writhing in agony. The driver of the car lifted him up and carried him to the side of the road. I knew it was not the driver ' s fault and told him so before kneeling down beside the now motionless Percy. As I knelt, I saw his eyes gradually turn purple and I knew that he had gone to the Puppy-dogs ' heaven . Sobbing, I closed his eyes and stroked his head. I was still hugging little Percy ' s body when the rough, but kindly voice of the Humane Society ambulance driver told me he must take my little playmate. With a sorrowful, aching heart I watched the ambulance drive away. DOROTHY HOYLE, Form in A.

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The Branksome Slogan 23 A Morning Symphony A dank, grey mist hung heavily over the blue-green water in the haze of the early morning. A damp breeze blew in off the sea, rusting the slimy- rooted reeds that stood deeply waving their slender blades, which as the breeze slackened, slowly straightened again. The sound of the waves breaking against the rocks farther along the beach mingled with the scream of the gulls as they sailed over the water watching, with their sharp little eyes, for morsels of food as the tide turned. The haze shifted slowly, as the sun came up, slanting weak rays of pale golden light across the shadowed sky. Soon pale gold turned to deepest yellow, tinting the edges of the brown rocks with rims of burning orange. Inland, along the shore where the rocks sloped, making a way to pass along the edge of the sand, was a cottage with a thatched roof and clean, white-washed walls, covered with rambling roses. A faint spiral of grey-blue smoke twisted out of the chimney and disappeared in the clean, sharp air. Suddenly, the large wooden door of the cottage opened and a little girl came down the broad, stone steps, swinging a water-bucket. She was a child of perhaps eleven years of age, fresh as the dew, her healthy young skin tanned with the summer sun. She put the pail down under the spout of the pump and began to swing the big iron handle with strong, easy movements, soon filling it to the brim. An elderly man, leaning on a knotted, w ooden cane, now came to the door of the tiny house. He had long white hair that was growing thin, and a white beard that moved up and down when he spoke. His eyes were bright with the twinkle of good nature, but his face was deeply seamed with age. For a moment, as if from habit, he stood with his right hand shading his eyes, gazing far over the sea ; then he turned and smiled gently on the child. ' ' Nice fresh mornin ' , little one , he said kindly to the girl as she came back towards the cottage, labouring with the heavy water-bucket. Aye, granddad, that it is , she answered in a full round voice, lifting her child face to the radiant sky. A new day had begun. BARBARA SPENCER, Form IV B.