Kitchener Waterloo Collegiate and Vocational School - Grumbler Yearbook (Kitchener, Ontario Canada)

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Contributed by Neville Bishop, A X LUCUZ OIZ GRACE HALL. A XIII B Sunlight smiles upon the river. antl the perfume-laclen air Spills its fragrance o'er the zrater lilfe the blessing of a prayer: But. unmintlful of the beauty as she softly glitles along Chanting lzer last lovely lyrics. slozcly goes the flying Slltlll. Sings sl1e of the silvery moonlight on the silence of a lalre. Anil tl1e flancing reetls at tzcilight zchich the playful :ephyrs shalfe. Antl the ecstasy of flying: as hier anguishetl heart is stirretl To the heavens soars that music uhiclz by mortals ne'er is hearzl. For the melofly that rises. sobbing. lilting. soaring high. ls the mystic air thatls chanted by the stars in ,Iliclrziglzfs shy. Then it quivers into silence. as in solitary state Down the sunset gleam she passes. prouflly. on to meet her fate. THE GRUMBLER 19

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Sinlple ? ? ? The nouns are elementary: the adjectives no trouble at all 3 adverbs very simple and verbs are a breeze. That definition of English is uppermost in the mind of a student while he or she slaves over the pas- sive periphrastic, deponent verbs and the impersonal passive. Few stop to think of the incongruities of our own language as viewed by others. In spelling alone, the outsider can be embarrassingly mistaken, since words with the same sound can have very, very different mean- ings. It is upon this subject that we shall dwell and to prove our point, we have prepared this brief but extremely elevating composition, which shall henceforth be known w as . . . HOUR TAIL A few daze ago wee scent hour Ant Minnie a letter, asking her if she still wanted to cell her read bury-pale. My sister had herd from a young buoy that hour maleman wanted won. If eye dew say sew, it was a beauty-maid of would with a steal boarder. Wee new that her sole wood .bee rent at the thought of parting with it. because it had bean in the family four years-but she kneaded the SYBII. CARD AND CAHoL ZIEQLEH. A XI D money however. After hereing about the possible sail, Ant Minnie wrote and told us to come and stay four the weak-end, since two travel both weighs inn a day wood take a lot of thyme. Wee left early the following mourning at ate, with hour lunch of bred and ail, and hour teem of horses. Having been gone not quite an our, wee herd slay bells wring- ing and saw a bore, who had in toe a loan hair, which he dropped inn a whole near the lain. After passing the old creak, wee new that wee were nearing Ant lVlinnie's. Upon passing threw the gait wee were shocked by the baron waist in front of us, since she aloud her foul and cows to grays on her unmoan lawn. Their she was to meat us, a serial boll in won hand, a bail of close and goodness nose what in the other. The last raise of the son were dimming and the hour was becoming chill as we ascended the creaking stares. Alass! She was well too dew now and did not knead to cell her bury- pale, because her husband had gone too a stag party and had come home with a little doe. Awl was well I Q-- Hgiisza wie ffia fjhizzqi ibn? Mun NEI. A XII li I love lhe fiery sun up high: stars above: The fIl'I-lIh'TI'I1g' The glillering SIIUIF. hi' lanfern light: The Sufi mist These are lhe falling he-fore lhe night: things I lore. I love lhe .vnell of the neu'-lnon'n hay: The earpel of flarh hrnu'n earth: The rippling wafer of a babbling hrooh: linlzile creeping in lhrougli erer-Y lIOUh'.' These are lhe things I lore. I lore lhe TIlSt'I'0llS jrzzils of frees: The genlle breeze of a SIIIIIIIIFI'-S A xl lillle laugh. a Il'l.l1h' of zlze eye. To tell me you are allways nigh: These are lhe things I lore. dar: llhx' dreams of far off fairy laniis: The jo-is I hlmle. lhe things I rio. .lly plans. :ny frienfls. my lore for yon. .-11111 these are hut a Very fezr. Of all the things I lore. lf? THE GRUMEBLER

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Help W antejl g Henry Anderson threw down his paper. Another European Relief drive, he grumbled as he swallow- ed his coffee and darted a hurried glance at his watch. Do they think we're made of money '? If they go on at this rate they'll soon be making collections over there for our benefitln The clock struck, and with a smothered yelp the irate Mr. Anderson snatched his hat and made his daily sprint for the bus. At that moment a shivering child was trudging along a storm- dlrenched Czechoslovakian road. The rain was cold in Novy Bydzov, a bitter cold that overcame hunger, and tiredness, and grief. The child stumbled in the midnight blackness, and as his bruised and bleeding feet tripped among the bricks and rubble he began to cry. It was not a loud sobbing that quivered from his trembling lips but a low wail that seemed to pour out all the anguish and longing of his childish soul. He was alone. The enormity of that single word overwhelmed him as his haunted eyes darted about trying to pierce the darkness and find some sign of life. Life there was indeed, but not the kind he sought. Rats scurried along the gutters and around the corner he could hear the frenzied snarling of starving dogs. They were familiar sounds and brought no fear to him. So, exhausted by weeping and the day's hardships the child curled his meagre little body in the corner of what had once been a house and dropped off to sleep. One hears much of the gentle sleep of childhood. Even this was not for him. Behind his sleep- sealed eyes stole visions of his former life at home in the lovely hills of Bieskid. There had been a little cottage then and a gentle cow which grazed near the door and f,ruci: H.-xu.. A XIII Il shook her bell with a wonderful jangle whenever you shouted at her. But it was wrong to shout, Mamma said, and if you did you would have no milk with your sup- per. What milk it was tool rich with yellow gobs of cream dancing at the top and so cool and good as it slipped down your thirsty throat. The child always drank two big mugs-full every night, and so did Nicolai, his brother, but little Mari could only manage one. Pretty was Mari with her dark laughing eyes and the smoking hair which was forever straying into her face. Sometimes that hair drove Mamma nearly frantic, but Oh! how proud she was when it was brushed sleekly back and tied with two perky crimson bows. Strange that whenever the child thought of Mari he remembered those little bows. But not so strange perhaps when you remember that in those days he was only five. Then the Germans came. With- out warning they descended upon the village, and the old happy life evaporated like smoke before the people's startled eyes. Some talked of broken treaties and agreements. but what were these to the common folk of the Bieskid? They were soon to learn. The child's father was sent with the other men of the village to work in munitions factories in the Fatherland. That was the beginning of the hard times, for with Papa gone. there was no money, and food was be- coming scarcer all the time. No milk there was then, and as the worried look sank deeper into Mamma's eyes little Mari took sick. Her once chubby body grew frail and white while her questioning eyes grew larger and darker than ever. The doctor who came gave her illness a long name. but Blam- 20 THE GRUMBLER