Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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28 The Branksome Slogan GROPING Lies far beyond our sluggish minds, Our efforts, our desires, A land of love, of joy, of peace. To which each soul aspires. ' Neath bold impulse of rashful youth, In lover ' s patient heart. Secluded in the mother ' s breast, The same swift longings dart. All toiling men of low degree. All men of art and fame. All humans on the earth to-day Are, underneath, the same. For groping for a brighter world Amid chaotic care, All lift their eyes above the skies To what lies hidden there. JOYCE DIBBLEE, Form 11. FRIENDSHIP True friendship is a sacred thing That ' s built up with the years, That ' s dipped in many joys of life, And bathed in many tears. DIANE CROSS, Form 1. The scoffers said that it couldn ' t be done — The odds were so great, who wouldn ' t? But I tackled the job that couldn ' t be done, And what do you know? It couldn ' t ! DORIE BATES, Form V. i

Page 29 text:

The Branksome Slogan 27 About halfway up the mountain there was a collection of small caves in which it was decided to live until better shelter could be found. The men took turns in hunting for food. When Carl ' s turn came, he left early in the morning- with two other men. When they returned at night, they were surprised to find no fire burning.. A feel- ing of dread filled Carl ' s heart as he ran towards the cave where Nora and Olaf lived. A soft cry escaped his lips as he gazed into the cave. By the light of the pale moon he could see Nora and Olaf lying on the ground, bullet-holes through their heads. One of the other men who had been with him came to him after inspecting the whole camp. There was not a living person left. The Germans had killed all the women and children and taken away the men. The two surviving men and Carl joined a Guerilla band. Carl stayed with the band for five long years; but as soon as the war was over, he returned to Bergen, and waited there until he could get a passage for Canada. . . . The voice of the official cut in on his thoughts. Silently he re- ceived his passports, picked up the few bags he had and went out onto the deck. There before him was a free country, a country where a man could live his own life without an oppressor. Slowly Number Seventeen shouldered his bags and walked down the gang- plank towards his new home, a home where he could start a new life knowing that he would be among friends until death. Lunch Hour PAT MARRINER, Form 11.

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The Branksome Slogan 29 THE MARTYR ' S SHRINE The River Wye goes slipping by, Without a thought of war, But martyrs blest were laid at rest Upon its peaceful shore. And now I stand upon the land Where saintly feet have trod. A wooden cross, o ' er grown with moss Shows where saints worshipped God. Their tortured deaths, their dying breaths. The River saw and knew; The River Wye goes slipping by, With all its secrets, too. JOAN HEISE, Form V. THE MAN WHA WHISTLES When bonnie Kate yer wished-for mate, Flouts ye and a ' yer braw epistles — In patience wait, she ' ll come yer gait; She ' ll turn yet to the man wha whistles. Aye hesitate when thrawn folk prate. Though at their words yer temper bristles ; Why should ye hate at sic a rate? Gie me the canty man wha whistles ! Some prize o ' Fate maun, sune or late, Fa ' s to the man o ' bane and gristle : Dinna be blate, haud on and wait; rBe like the canty man, and whistle ! DORIE BATES, Form V. rS HOPELESS They say I make men miserable; Internationally I ' m hated Because I ' m hard to find, and it ' s A protest not belated. I try to help in every way; I ' m friend to dog and man; I cleanse them from their sins of dirt And do the best I can. And yet the young boys hate me; For me there is no hope. I make men slide in bathtubs, ' Cuz I ' m just a cake of soap. PEGGY DEACHMAN, Form IV.