London South Collegiate Institute - Oracle Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

Page 23 text:

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The Brook It rippled o'er' the pebbles smooth, Among the tiny stones did play, It glistened 'neath the sun's bright beams, 4 1 X 1 W As, through the woods, it made its way. It laughed and gurgled with delight And, as it ran along, it played A simple, merry little tune- w A soft, sweet murmiring sound it made. The graceful ferns which gently swayed, The blue bells small with heads low bent, The great, tall trees far overhead- All watched the brook as on it went. But soon this joyous life must end, The waters must no longer be A little brook so wild and gay, So full of life and joy, and free, For it must join the briny sea, And reach its destination wide To mingle with the Waters, and Be lost forever in the tide. Helen Gilmour, II A. Freedom What greedy fools are men That think of nought But gold: Cold misers in their den Men's lives have bought And sold. They think not of the joy That they might bring To all, Of vice they could destroy. Each noble thing, Tho' small, Is marked down for your life In someone's mind. So we Should end this anxious strife For gold, and find I Men free. -Bob Calvert, VA. In Memoriam To My Boots Oh, dilapidated trotter cases! Oh, horribly mutilated footwear! I pity you the thousand traces Of the cruel treatment which you bear. I ground on country roads, your soul to dust, As, plodding on some Weary hike, I kicked At every stone I passed. Your old toe may Detest me, for the mud holes which it licked To break the ice on many a wintry day. But still you brought it on yourself As you sat so shiny on the shelf. So, without remorse, I let your ruined style Reign supreme atop the rubbish pile. ' -Bill Nichols, III C. 23

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The Comet world, beam, By Graeme Cameron, VA. Night spread her soothing blanket o'er the Down from the pale moon slipped a silvery The calm, majestic sky was faintly pearled With many a distant planet's lucent gleam. Then swiftly, brightly, from infinity, Earthward a glittering point began to move As if propelled by some divinity, Its flashing trail entraced a fiery groove. Before that blinding light the tranquil dark Was rudely shattered from its peaceful dream, The comet blazed, then plunging, it was gone, And night's serenity reigned on supreme. - sy fa ' -s, - Q !l rm35Q?hw3A A C gfQg,et- ggi U' .Q-331 T Q I i gil hai sus, Hills. N Autumrfs Beauty By James Sage, ID. When Autumn comes out and scrawls its name On Nature's works of art, We feel we owe it homage For the beauty of of its partg It tints the leaves and frosts the fields With splendour and delight, It blows the trees and turns the yields Of grain by Work at night. It works its way from coast to coast And fairy raptures it does boast, With steady work and worthy toil It thus transforms Canadian soil. 24 But after Autumn her wonders has wrought And beautified the land, Need we give it offerings meek Or congratulating hand? Or should we wait for winter And its snowy blanket white To cover up the Autumn,s trail And reward its colour bright? For Autumn is a working thought And quite fulfils its duty, So why not share the fortunes rare And live with Autumn's beauty.