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

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NORMAL SCHOOL TREES Old trees! Yes, we love them, As they warp and lean and wear; But, ' tis hard to change the ancient, When the seal of years they bear. Young trees are so supple, Ah! their roots are insecure! To us they are entrusted; May we help them to endure. Rangers o ' er our forests new, We must prop and give them space, That these treelets may unfold— Staunchest maples of our race. Margaret C. Harvey. Apologies to Author of Have Tou Seen an Apple Orchard in the Spring? Have you seen a Normal student in the spring, in the spring, A bright-eyed Normal student in the spring? When he ' s feeling gay and flirty. While he shouts his love like thirty, And he gets his white ducks dirty In the spring? If you have not, then you know not in the spring, in the spring, All the joys and all the sorrows of the spring; For exams are drawing near. And they ' re almost dead with fear That next year they ' ll still be here In the spring. So if you come to London Normal in the spring, in the spring, Here is just a word of warning in the spring: Let the birds and flowers go by, You must fix your hazy eye On your books until July, In the spring. Dorothy Kyte. LONDON ONTARIO A GRADUATE COMES BACK (At the Alumni Tea, 1932) There ' s a sadness and a gladness Fills my heart as I sit here, In the old familiar Normal Where 1 spent a happy year. Gladness in the master ' s welcome Or a colleague ' s hearty hail, Sadness, for this was the harbour Which I left, life ' s sea to sail. Tasks that once seemed long and irksome Now have faded in the past. While happy reminiscences Come flooding thick and fast. We play again at basketball, Our knees and fingers maim, And if our homework wasn ' t done. Times we were dumb driven cattle And not heroes in the strife, Rushing madly to Assembly, To be late was worth your life! Quaking before critic teachers (Be still, oh thou thumping heart!) Yet should we teach snow in Cuba - We had A manner quite apart. As I gaze on each newcomer Tall and short, or thin and shy, I can tell they all are teachers — See the pupil in each eye? But there! I must end these verses Musing on the days of yore, And join the other Normalites On the Convocation floor. Lillian A. Holland,

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NORMAL SCHOOL WILL-OVTHE WISP I fell in love with a wilbo ' the-wisp And 1 worship with reverence. It is not cold like common sense, Nor figures, maze on mase. It winks at me like a falling star And brightens the world both near and far Beauty is my mistress, listen to her praise. In the curved true line of youth And the dear sweet line of age; In the soft accent of Italy And the brogue of Irish lips; In the apple blossoms swinging free. In the garden, the hyacinths. The sweet perfume from the linden tree And the fragrance of cedar and pine. Are the haunts of that goddess of mine. I hear the beat of waves upon a lonely shore The tinkling of sheep bells as day is o ' er I hear the lark o ' er the clamour of street And the lover ' s lute in a garden seat As the music rolls and tumbles and falls When masters play and beauty appals. As the poet reads you hold me fast My spirit bends and my will beats time; Forgotten are friends of present for past. And thoughts are vagrant in land and clime. Fond memory, when all my senses die Shall hold in store The beauty found in common things. In nature, life, and love. Who asks for more? Clarence Sadler. RAIN Through the mystic stillness, Swept with swirling rain, I hear the pealing of the chimes; They stir my heart with memories Of love in former times; And as the raindrops swish Against my casement pane, I see a picture of a grove And distant, winding lane; There, too, we strolled together Through springtime mist and haze, And now, these bells and gusty wind Recall those long-lost days. Frank Doan. Page Twemy-six LONDON ONTARIO] THE CYNIC Jealous am I of the man who can Sit down at a table and take up a pen And write words of wisdom and tales so sublime, And picture a world that is beauty, in rhyme. That man has reached havens which only a few Will be able to see in a far distant view, A view that is hazy and misty with care. With only a faint glimmering of hope, too rare. He has reached heights which are narrow and steep, And has through the years been able to reap Honour and glory and love so divine Which grows more precious and rare through time. But I, less fortunate, only can stand And jealously watch while with pen in hand He soars to his heights beyond my short grasp, And leaves me to linger there still, to the last. God grant that when I am called to my rest I shall not be grouped with those that were blest With fuller insight into realms so untrue, But aloof may wander and judge there too. Fred R. Dickenson. MANY WATERS The drip, drip of the rain at night Soothes my tired mind; My weary body feels refreshed When, in the street, I find Little pools of rainbow water Tinted by the sun; Rivulets are streams of gold As from the steeps they run. The lordly rivers beckon me, Passionate and strong; A placid lake of deep, deep blue Is like a restful song — Would that I might linger there And let the world go on! Mildred Sanderson, No. 233,

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NORMAL SCHOOL LONDON ONTARIO ATHLETIC SOCIETIES Standing— P. T. Bridgette, M. C. Harvey, J. L. Haldane, A. B. Carruthers, E. C. Boughner, T. N. Dawson, D. I. Morgan, F. M Wigle, Sitting — A. K. Sutherland, A. D. Kidd, V. Burtwistle, E. H. McKone (Honorary President), J. S. Gillespie, G. M. Overholt. Page JTwenty-eight