London Normal School - Spectrum Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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NORMAL A Scarlet Lily Today I noticed as I walked. , ' Neath leaden skies of greyish hue. One scarlet lily as it flamed, Though all about a glorious view. Bereft of nearly all its friends. It stood quite still and undismayed , And seemed to wait an unseen Hand To strike it down where others laid. It did not seem to be afraid. Though cool north gusts announced its fate. But waited like a guiltless babe To share the peace of its dead mate. And as I wandered up the hill, My heart was lifted as I thought Of that lone lily in the field, Alone, in peace, to wait, unsought. A. Ryerson Wing Nature What beauty in a cold damp fog, The dead dank leaves in yonder bog. The sluggish stream, the leafless trees? For me. no beauty in such scenes. I crave the living awesome things: Mountains, rivers, Lightning that flings Now here, now there, from rock to rock. And scatters all with fearful shock. Then rolls the thunder far away, Comes closer, yields its fearsome sway And strikes all men with terror, while They watch God ' s fury in the sky. And so give me the restless urge, That may perhap be my last dirge, And leave the quite peaceful things For him, who like the angels, sings A. Ryerson Wing Page Thirty LONDON ONTARIO A Normal Day If we arrive at school on time We ' re not considered late; But when the clock says ten to nine, St. Peter shuts the gate. We are reminded, once a day. Just what the hall is for; That we must always make our way Towards an open door. And one more thing that we must guard Importantest of all ; For we seem wont to disregard Decorum in the hall. Now period one has just begun. We hasten to our class To draw the line where old man sun At nine o ' clock did pass. But we must say so much for that We ' re now in period two, With history students on the mat For what they did not do. The budget is the question now. But we must let it pass, Until I find a way, somehow To budge the history class. Now I don ' t know. I greatly fear This isn ' t going across. I wish you ' d tell me — is it clear. ? If not. it ' s your own loss. And now a period of grammaire To check up on our aints ; And then we scramble up the stair To learn to dob with paints. And so from room to room we flit, As bees from flower to flower; Gathering nectar , bit by bit, Before the ' leventh hour. G. Alan Buchanan The Pioneer Potter In a lonely vale way back in the woods, And far from the beaten way, There stands a cottage, worn and rent, The work of another day. I ' ll never forget my visit there, Nor the man who lives alone, Plying his trade for a living bare, In a shack he calls his home. As we viewed the place from a nearby knoll. I asked him to unfold The story of his life thus far; And this is what he told — ' Twas back in the days of eightu-nine When I built that shack among the pine: And the timbers have stood exceedingly well Both weather and time in this low-lying dell. With no other tool but a rusty spade, I ' ve toiled and sweat in this lonely glade And I wonder at times just how I survive. But thank the stars — I ' m still alive! My lime is spent throughout the day In moulding vases from out the clay. When night creeps down upon the earth. I sit with my pipe beside the hearth. Though all the world be filled with care. I haven ' t a worry in my cabin bare. And, through the long, cold winter day. I smoke and eat and mould the clay. Just how much longer I ' ll stand the grind Is more than I know — I ' m the lasting kind ; But I ' ll stay here for aye in this dreary place Which time and age can ne ' er erase. G. Alan Buchanan

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The Ditch- Digger A ditch-digger, lowly, dug by the road, Knee deep in the mud, yet you could see The soul of the man wasn ' t there n the slime — On the band of his hat smiled a red peony. Perhaps he had worshipped the beauty of earth — Perhaps he could feel with his spade in the sod The Paean of Life that never grows still : And in that scarlet peony — God. Margaret McKenzie Beauty Worship A mist of pearl-grey vapour Stealing o ' er the plain: A rainbow ' s benediction After the driving rain; A sunset ' s flaming splendour Over the silent lake; A moon-beam ' s irridescence When the fairies wake; All these have power to move me. To make my being thrill. So I bow before the Architect Who made them at His will Margaret McKenzie Dawn Now comes the silent peaceful hour of dawn. Se? in the east, that ashen streak of grey, 7 hat mottled semblance of a new born fawn, As Phoebus and his train announce the day. Yon pine tree stirs and nods as if to say Wake up, here is the day; while on the lawn Dew sprinkled blades sway to and fro, to pawn The last vestige of their rest in hushed way. So quiet the while earth seems, as here I stand And look from my small window, at a sight I scarce perceive, although I know ' tis God. What matters what takes place in this our land As long as things just like the dawn look bright Our worries, fears all disappear, praise God! A. Ryerson Wing Amo love music, (who does not?) Organs throbbing in the dark, Viols sobbing, and the lark Singing of his happy lot. I love people, living things Children dancing, full of joy Maidens glancing at a boy Love, and all the joy it brings. I love loving, even strife. Hopeless yearning, for success. Restless turning, happiness, But of all I most love Life. Olive Elley Roses — Ever Roses (Dedicated to Mother) Take a little rosebud, yellow, red or white. Plant it in your garden, and shower it with care; Soon ' twill blossom, fair and bright. As if God ' s hand had set it there. Take my heart. O loved one dear, Treat it as a rosebud in your garden near. But little care is needed there To make it flower lovely and fair. Ed. A. Hanseord Page Twenty-Nine

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-,,00 (..SC,, [normal school POST DOCENDUM You seemed very nervous. the critic began. And your manner was not as it should be; But what made the chalk slip out of your hand. And why did your knees get so shaky? In my youth. the poor, worried Normalite said, I learned all the dance steps there were, But why this new step should come just then Is something which strikes me. unfair. But I was surprised. the critic remarked. To hear such very poor diction; The Oh. Oh ' s ' and ' sures ' , I ' ll certainly condemn. How could your conscience permit them. ' ' In our lectures at Normal. the victim came back, We ' re told to accept all things new. These sayings are so impressed on my mind. There was nothing else I could do. My ideas of style with yours collide. The critic resumed her remarks, How could you teach in that flaming dress. It took from the lesson, in parts? With a groan, the poor student held her ground. The object and aim in each lesson. Is to hold attention, as we have been trained. This dress seemed to me but a blessin ' . But the worst part of all. the tormentor went on, Was the dealing with your lesson. You brought in everything under the sun, But the matter assigned for discussion. We ' ve been warned. said the victim, nearing collapse, That whatever else we might do, LONDON ONTARIO Not talk of things of which we ' d no grasp. So I kept to things that I knew. That ' s the end, said the critic, of what I ' ll now say, Although many suggestions might aid you; Your following lesson will be in my room. For a week, ' adieu ' may I bid you. Clara Tupper ODE TO GUM CHEWING EPIDEMIC Sweet chewing gum, I hate to see You thrown away so soon. So, find yourself a resting place. And I ' ll pick you up at noon. For rules are made by masters, stern. And students must obey ; Chewing gum must be postponed Throughout the long school day. THE SONG OF A NORMALITE Audrey Mott Fried potatoes and beefsteak, Every day of the week; Water too hot to shave with. Tea too hot to drink. Cook calls you to breakfast A couple of hours late. That ' s life at the boarding house. Every day of the week. Cold bananas and applesauce. Every day of the week ; House as cold as an ice-box. Every day of the week; But with all our moaning. We sing a happier song; We work for dear old Normal The whole night long! E. A. Hansford Page Thirty-One