Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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26 The Branksome Slogan THE TEMPLE I entered in, but not into The spirit of the church. A cougfi, A sneeze disturbed me and my thoughts, Which Would have flown past stars aloft. Within me lay, siuppressed and still. I left the mian-made house of iGod, I wandereid through the shady woods, Till, peeping through, I saw the sea, I saw the waves crash on the rocks. The rain refreshed me and I knew ! My prayer soared high in thank- fulness That He had shown His house to me. JOCELYN BAKER (Form IV A). TO A PRIMROSE The primrose, laughing up at me, Its petals wide apart with glee Bobbing, nodding, smiling too Enthralling ' til, as though with glee. My feet were fastened to the sod That I might watch the flower nod And sweep and caper with the wind. But then the blushing petals fall And life comes to an end. It always makes me sorrow though To see the wind, once Primrose ' beau, Now buffet, push and mock the meek. Seemingly to me to seek The fair bright bloom ' s disaster. At last, it stands in high white grass Alone, o ' er which the fall will pass. But soon the bud it holds within Will blossom forth to nod and grin And make the world a happy place For others old and young, in case They ' ve never seen a beauty bright To make one spot a lovely sight. CYNTHIA GOODING (Form IV C). THE DEAD LAKE The water lay as calm as death — Its shroud the breathless air. And by its edge the lifeless trees And cMffs stood silent there. Beyond the farthest shore arose A cloud, and darkness spread ; And then the wind aind rain began To lash the pine-clad dead. The heavy corpse began to stir : Its Hmbs took life and hurled The angry waters at the cliff Where v hite caps foamed and swirled. But when the storm, its anger spent, Beyond the hills had sped, The fitful form grew calm again And lay as lie the dead. MARY VAN WYCK (Form III A).

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28 The Branksome Slogan A Visit to William Shakespeare stepping lightly across the furrowed floor, lifting up her rustling skirts, Ophelia comes forward to greet her host who is standing at the edge of the stage, smiling a welcome as his guests make their bows before him, and pass on to mingle with the swelling crowd within the yard. The bright costumes are ' beginning to lend, colour to the formerly drab interior of the old Globe Theatre, and one can already hear the clowns cracking jokes im the galleries around the open courtyard. At last, everyone has arrived; King Lear, Rosalind, Hiamlet, Or- lando, Juliet, and countless others who have come regularly for years to meet their originator in celebration of his birthday. The heralds step forward and conversation ceases as they raise the trumpets to their lips and a noble fanfare sounds forth throughout the ancient building. What is all this preparation for? Shame to the man who does not re- cognise the famous figure of Will Shakespeare as he steps down from the stage, offers his arm to Cleopatra, resplendent in Egyptian jewels and silks, and leads the gathered company to the tables, set at the end of the courtyard where Mistress Quickly and Dol T ' earsheet are hovering anxiously over the food which they have so carefully prepared. As he looks down the long table, the great man watches once more the jests and quarrels of this great assembly. A smile plays about his lips as (he sees Bardolph ' s red nose getting well down into his plate, and opposite him, great Jack Falstaff tossing off his sack aind crying loudly, ' ' Give me a icup of sack. I am a rogue if I drunk today. Henry V lifts up his head and a twinkle comes into his eyes and once more he is merry Prince Hal, laughing amd quibbling with the old comrades of his wild youth. At the opposite end of the table, Shylcck is cowering in his chair as Portia laughingly dares him to cut off a pound of Antonio ' s flesh for his meal. iSurely, she will not make the wretch suffer omice more the agony of the trial? No. Portia is merciful. Shakespeare signs to Maria who is standing behind her mistress Olivia ' s chair, and she fills up his gtlass to the brim, so that he may lean back and watch his friends as they linger over the reminants of the feast. Many are becoming affected by the wine, among these Sir Toby Belch and his friend. Sir Andrew Aguecheek, who are standing on the benches at the side of the yard while Sir Toby challenges the company to a song : ' ' Shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do that?