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

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Sea Song by BARRIE iAcK,v B Then they bore him down. The tall old king of a tall race of men, Down where the surf washed slowly on the sand Whispering of far-off seas and mighty fights: And they laid him on the deck upon his throne. Weak with his age he sat. white-lipped. eyes closed. And the gulls wheeled, screaming. in the cloudless sky, Screaming to see the tall ship leave the shore. Taking the foaming waters with a bound. Away, away, across the rolling sea, The sea of kings, and mighty ships and men. The cold blue northern sea of northern kings. The fiordis waters opened slowly out: The broad sea stretched away, before. behind: The gray shore rose. clothed with Norwegian pines, And fringed along the beach with whitened sand. The ship rose to the surges of the open sea. And now the land slid slowly out of sight Farther and farther, the distance hid from View His people, watching on the water's edge. Watching to see the sea-king ride away. Upon his own swift ship across the seag Across the sea, and from their ken of space: Across the sea, and far beyond the world, Beyond the sunset, and the surging waves Ne'er to return. His ship no more shall round The headland, home-returning from the sea. No more the fires shall burn for him, or wives prepare Feasting, beneath the snow-topped Norway trees. . N' . . ,. 5.-be-eg .J - H 2'v . pl A AK ll at ii , X ? ? And so the ship sailed on, on through the seas, NZ' And smoke rose slow, and thick along her length Above the benches and the long ash oars. And burning slowly, so the sea was quiet And all was silent, save the dying king Breathing laboriously. and the gulls above, Screaming and wheeling. To the dying king They seemed the cries and screams of winter gales, The wild Valkyrie riding on the storm .... All done. All that a king could do, was done Ev'n to his death. An old, old man, Huddl'd upon his throne. His dim eyes closed, Dreaming of olden fights and olden deeds, X Dreaming, the while his old eyes closed in death, And flames rushed higher o'er the sinking ship. Mounting above the mast. The gulls were gone, And there were none to see the dying king Rise to his feet, supported by his sword, As the ship slipped, smoking, 'neath the silent seas, Greeting the waves with a Wild hiss ..... -xxx-f'X9 The seas rolled on And only a while charred wood lay on the place To mark Valhalla's gate, the heav'n of kings. Page Twenty-one

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Y Y V- tx 1 LO 7' XY Y Xxx, Y Xu ,, Y ix' Xi L7 if N' s -X X, lx jg VX A N -. M' v 'A A . L.. -'O NZ 1 1 ml. xx V . - 1 ' .5 K gh ,p g,x z , XX XX xc Xl A l :ZZ x I l Q FL Qyilmkk by Xt, L in x i ' - il Mlm ' , Q wil' 'QQQSW The Stuff OF Life by JIM LILLICO, VA AC. A cheerful smile, a hearty grip, A kind word in the face of strife, A helping hand, by friendship moved, These go to make the stuff of life! A lilting song, a dew-touched leaf, A mellow pipe with curling haze, A full-rigged ship on white-tipped swell, A good book: these fill all our days. A Heecy cloud, the pale new moon, The smell of lavender and lace, A sprightly dance, a ling'ring kiss, The sight of unforgotten face, The mute appeal in a dog's deep eyes, Gulls by JACK THOMPSON, XI C AC. Sea gulls floating on the breeze, Lazily drifting o'er the sea, Near the fishing-wharfs and quays, Search for bits of fish, dropped free. Sighting one, a gull banks steeply, Then drops down with quickened pace,- Other gulls observe this quickly, And with raucous cries. give chase. They swoop down at the would-be owner Who. with loud and angry cries, Quickly snatches at the morsel, And with hurried beats, then flies. But after him his fellows rush: He hears around him greedy calls, And while he dodges, swooping, turning, From his beak the morsel falls. Downward, ever downward, spinning, Falls the bit for which they fight, And the disappointed pirates Watch it vanish out of sight. , s F , . , ,J , , 4, eg A X lil' . , if' -rs. ,, E gr M ' pk X my x K fr ku? fl 5 R Q June Night by OLGA WESTBYE, SP. COM. Still, so still Summer is young to-night, The silver moon she wears Leaves her breathless with delight. Her dusky hair is caught with stars And misty scarves, all milky white. Soft, so soft Her eyes are dark and gay, Her lovely laughing face is there The child that spreads its arms in glee, Watching the moonbeams play. An old oak-tree: a thousand things, Had we but time to stop and see! Page Twenty Time for a moment stops to gaze- Then hastens on his way.

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Tl l6 WOFITI TUI'l1S by SYLVIA BOORMAN, IV A AC. Clzaractcrs: Josie Brown Chester Le Bran The scene takes place in a garden. The only cridence of an adjoining house, is a wall, LEFT, and a short flight of cement steps. At the front is an iron fence separating the garden from the street. It is a Very nice garden, and may be arranged as desired. The curtain opens to disclose a young girl sitting disconsolately on the steps. She is airing her opinions on life in general and her.s in. particular. Whether the flowers are nodding in sympathy or amusement, n'e'll never kfnozo. JOSIE: You'd think I were a person of doubt- ful character, a criminal or something the way they treat me. They don't even notice me! It's enough to drive a person to crime. I might get sent to jail for some terrible thing I'd done, and then, after years and years when they let me out, a broken and useless old-old-well, broken and useless, I would say: Yes, if it hadn't been for my unhappy school-days, I wouldn't be the broken and useless old-old-I wouldn't be broken and useless. No sir! tShe reflects on this fascinating picture for a couple of seconds, shaking her head in sorrow over the people who zconld be the unknonfing cause of this dranza.J , X x- 'Q !z?,q!!' .1 5 -ff -,-4 ' T3 filigilllkzxiifef if ff! f ' lbfk ?'1 V . I l V , -V l A N W. . -f j, W , MM ctw, Do have a a'or1n. dlr. .lorzesfl JOSIE: Oh why did we have to move? I've been at school almost three weeks, and still nobody has been the least bit friendly. lChanting dolefullyj Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I think I'll go into the garden and eat worms. QNO sooner said than done. She jumps up, runs into the house and returns wearing a smock, anfl carrying a box Page Twenty-tzz'o and troicel. She kneels down by a flozcer bed and begins. Her search is vicious, and she is startled at hearing a voice askzj VOICE: Whatlre you doing? JOSIE: Knot looking npj : Digging up worms. CHESTER: What for? Are you going to use them for fishing? JOSIE: No, I'm going to eat them, of course. tThis said, as though it were the only sen- sible reason zcorms icere ever put upon the earth. Then, looking up.J Want some? CHESTER: CTurning slightly green - he doesn't go to college yetj: Why-er-eh-sure. JOSIE tPract'ically, while she pokes a stick under the squirnzy body of a worm, and keeping it at arm's length, drops 'it into the bomb: How would you like them? Nice 'n juicy 'n fat? Or would you rather have 'em all sizzled up lovely and crisp? CHESTER CShaking his head sacllylz I'll have mine raw, thanks. JOSIE fGetting up and coming over to him. Affecting societyl: Do have a worm, Mr. Jones. CHESTER: Mmm-thanks. Golly, how do you eat the things-with your fingers? JOSIE CStill high-hath: I think the usual procedure is to drop the worm into the mouth, close the teeth, and by a series of said dental instruments, transform the worm into a-er-fshe gnlpsb a pulp. Then, by a process of bringing the tongue against the palate of the mouth-in short, by swallow- ing-the worm is considered eaten. fShe drops the ajtectation, draws a long breath and saysj If it isn't, it certainly isn't my fault. CHESTER: Well . . . thanks. fTakes one in his handy Now, won't you have one? Uosie starts to put her hand in the box tnvice-fwithdra-ws it hastily both times. Looks helplessly at Chester, whom she just realizes is the rather nice-looking boy who lines next door. He comes to the rescueb. CHESTER: Do you know I believe one of those things made a face at me just then. Per- sonally, I don't think we should associate with such worms, do you? JOSIE Un a relieved uoicebz No, it really is beneath one's dignity. tHe hurls the worms away, and they both laugh. Josie and Chester, not the wormsl.