Peterborough Collegiate and Vocational School - Echoes Yearbook (Peterborough, Ontario Canada)

Page 95 text:

THE ECHQPIS W za 'jawn Lord, when my life's bright flame grows dim, One thing I ask: That I may lie upon a hill Where breezes blow, The fragrant cedars incense spill, Pines murmur low. VVhere skies are very near and blue, And clouds are white, And, like to sentinels, peep through Thy stars, at night. Marion 0. Brown, QB Academic. fllfow a Small 5502 Spanos Tfis 'Day ' LEEPING . . . Waking up and shouting at the sun . . . Playing with his cloth elephant and his string of buttons . . . Shouting at his mother and telling her to get up because her baby boy is hungry . . . Crawling around the kitchen floor and getting into the catfs dish. Getting into the lower part of the cooler and throwing the milk bottles and oranges around . . . Taking his milk and cereal like a good boy . . . Playing in his pen in the sun- shine . . . hlaking a bee line for the cat, treating it rough and patting it like a good boy, and stopping very quickly when the cat says something sharp to him . . . Tearing ai nasturtium leaf to pieces . . . Picking up a pea and carrying it around in his fist . . . Paddling across the floor on his hands and knees, head down like a colt pulling a cart . . . Pulling on a curtain and being astonished when the curtain flies up with a snap . . . Giggling at the cat . . . Chewing on his zwieback and getting it all soggy . . . Yanking at his father's necktie . . . Pushing his teetertot for whatever you call the thingj getting it caught and yelling . . . Making funny noises . . . Splashing half of his bath water on the floor . . . Eating his lunch nicely . . . Rubbing his eyes. . . Taking his nap and waking up too soon. Playing in his pen . . . And yelling when strangers come up the front steps . . . Drinking his orange juice, violently refusing his tomato juice. Chewing on a rubber ball . . . Putting his foot in his mouth fwith or without shoe.l Pulling himself up in front of the radio. turning its knobs increasing the volume till it yells at him. and getting right out of there . . . Waving his hand when you tell him not to . . . Not waving his hand when you tell him to . . . Taking his cod- liver oil like a good boy . . . Laughing at himself in the glass . . . Pulling out base plugs and trying to get them back again . . . Chewing a cord to pieces . . . Being adored by all the family . . . Trying to make his big sister laugh . . .Rubbing his eyes desperately . . . Going off to bed on his mother's shoulder . . . Yawning most en- gagingly .... Sleeping . . . How parents spend their time: VVatching the small boy. H With apologies, L. Dominik, III I.A. -37-

Page 94 text:

nvutf'- -iw' 3 l -4 ' mr H THE ECHQPIS weathering Ttfis 'last Storm The night was very dark and storming, Thunder clouds were quickly forming, And fiercely flashed the lightning by, Lighting, as it oped, the sky. A man stood 011 a deserted street, And his appearance was far from neat. His hair was gray and his coat was torn. His hat was shabby and his shoes were worn. He crouched against a building high. ln hopes that there he could keep dry, But the wind around him sereeehed and blew, And the cold rain chilled him through and through. A half hour later. or thereabout- How long exactly, we may doubt. A policeman passing on his beat Stumbled on something at his feet. He wondered what it could possibly be, And flashed on his light in order to see, He started back in sudden dismay, A As a still form before him lay. It was of an old man bent and grey, Who had weathered his last storm that day: But no sign of pain was on his face, Instead shone a smile of Heavenly Grace. And so that dark and stormy night. Another soul had taken its flight. That of the old man bent and grey. VVho entered the Eternal Haven that day. lllrirgzzeritv AIZIIIIIFII. IIb Commercial. r ff f Al fi' :px iw T , I' 1' tt 'X 'ji , f'l-., s 2' is 6 asf fxgesk

Page 96 text:

---f fn- W- W- - 11.7.-si .ig-1 - - - -Y 4 A - - THEM BCH. ES winters Eoucb The hills, that once were gay with flowers, Are covered now with a blanket of snow. The trees, that once had leafy bowers. rf With snow-laden branches are bending low. The woodland path I used to follow, No longer hides my wandering way But shows each step, firm, elear and hollow, Printed in snow and there to stay. The rabbits have put on their winter fur, And changed it from brown lo snowy white. Wlhile over the sparkling drifts they spur Searcely seen in their coats so light. The rushing stream can no longer flow. Blithely in sight of the human eye. R f' 'sa ' But leisurely wends its way below f' X, A winter blanket from on high. ,Z N A- Huff: IJIIVIIIIH. Form lll H. A. TAN. Tfxmateur Goes Skiing OW well I remember my first experience on skiis! The night was cold and crisp. There was no wind to hamper our progressg but the consistent criss- crossing of my skiis obliterated for the present, all thoughts of being a great skier. A bark!-then a growl awoke me to the present. I saw my friends hastily making for the steep hill ahead-I tried to follow. My skiis once more became entangled and l fell over in a crouch, supported in this posture by the shoe harness. I regained my balanceg but, alas! the large eollie was right behind. With a backward thrust of my ski-pole, I gave myself a push. Suddenly, I could see space ahead, and knew I had reached the hill. hIy skiis seemed to float. Managing to keep my balance, I landed with a bump. Almost simultaneously and without warning, away I went soar- ing into the air again. The spraying snow was blinding and the tang of the crisp air seemed to choke me. Again. leeling a peculiar sensation in my 'Kinnards I knew I was landing. What will be the result? I asked myself. For worse or for better, I do not know. Later, when I woke, I heard David say:- Boy, Itlaurice, you took the ski-jump like a veteran. Yes, like a vegetarian, I replied and sank back to think of the pleasant time I could have had at home. Jlazzrice Giarrlino, IIe Industrial Arts. -33..