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

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A Thunderstorm by HELEN LONG, X B COM. The clouds W e r e black and menacing. The wind was be- ginning to moan in the tall pines surrounding the lake. A sailboat III near the centre of the lake was being driven by wind and waves farther away from its landing. The wind became stronger and the waves bigger. Then-a flash of lightning and a tremendous crash of thunder, and down came the storm. Peal upon peal of thunder shook the earth and flashes of lightning seared the heav- ens. Though it was still early morning, it look- ed almost like dusk. Branches were torn from trees by the wind, which was now a howling gale. Far out across the sheet of turbulent water a speck could be identified as the over- turned sailboat. The rain became a white sheet blotting out even this blurred scene. Water ran in little rivers down the woodpath and formed little lakes in the hollows. Still the thunder crashed, as if the earth would be rent asunder. How long this kept up we had no idea, but the minutes crawled by like hours. Then the distant rumble of thunder and a soft, regular drip from the leaves proclaimed the passing of the storm. Canada by TED sn-IARP, nx H Canada stands for Freedom, And proud we are of it, We are all for Winston Churchill We're behind him every bit. Canada stands for Freedom, We will fight to the last stronghold, We will fight to the very last man, And we'll not be bribed by gold. Canada stands for Freedom, And stands for Democracy- And we will flatten all oppressors That strive to enslave the free. Page Twenty Moonlight Meditation by vAu.e1'rA BOLTON, ux A In the quiet winter evenings, When the fire has burned down low, I look out through the window Across the fields of snow. And a sort of wonder fills me, As I see the beauty there, Which drives away my Worries, And all my day-time care. For the kindly moon sheds silvery light On the rolling fields of snow, The forest stands all dark and still Within its splendid glow. Like fairy chimes sound sleigh bells, Across the cold air clearg And close upon their tinkling A fox's bark I hear. And this pure and shining beauty, Brings me lasting peace so deep, That magic world of midnight, When mortals are asleep. I Love You by MARY WAITE, XIII A AC. I love you with the freshness of my youth, Which, sparkling, scintillating, dew-distilled O'erflows in all my dreams. I love you with the fragrance of my soul, Close wrapp'd around to comfort you If dreary 1ife's way seems. I love you with the fervence of my life- A burning flame of constant loving warmth To guard you on your way. I love you as a bird might love the air, In breathless ecstacy and zest of life When winging through the blue. I love you as the children love a star On which to wish, and in excitement wait For wishes to come true. I love you as a mother loves her babe, In tenderness-a giving, hoping love. I love you as I pray.

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forth and invest the beds of rich brown earth with their beauty. She has breathed on the gaunt, naked maple trees and their branches are veiled in a mesh of pale green that gleams in the light of street lamps with an almost un- bearable beauty that clutches at the throat and brings sharp tears to sting the eyelids. On awakening lawns the robins pull fat worms from the damp earth and cheerfully dictate the terms of surrender. This is how spring comes to the city while the blind and deaf poets sit at home and sing of running brooks. Summer Night by MAmON BROWN, sp. COM Earth draws the night about her Like a cloak of jewelled velvet Clasped with sleep. The west wind, weary with his day-long play, Sleeps, pillowed on the distant hills, And dreams of day. Each nodding daisy bows her head And wraps her silver petals close Against the chilly dew. And busy wings are softly folded now, Drowsed by the incense of the cedar tree To dreamless sleep. And all good things that love the day Sleep soundly through the summer night. Then why am I awake? Timber by THOMAS ofxvues, x c mo. Ants. Nestling in a timber clothed valley, hemmed in by snow covered hills lay a logging camp, bustling with activity in the crisp wintry air. Wisps of grey smoke rose lazily from the cook- house chimney into the cold blue sky in which stars still glittered. Within the warm cookhouse long shadows iiitted on the log walls, cast there by the glowing logs be cut into long white boards. A lumberjack braced himself on top of each load and pried log after log loose. These rolled down a log slide onto the saw track where they were fastened down with steel clamps. Rumbling along they came to the whistling saw and as it bit into the soft white wood it screamed shrilly and spat chips for rn a n y in the fireplace. E ' yards. Dropping in- Seated at the long , xv, ,I to the saw-pit each crude table were V ' slab was taken and bearded men, wolf- at 1 -' x Q g a S. by . piled upon mount- ing hot flap jacks 1 5-jpg, Q- 5 'jf ..'i 1 -ff 14251 ing Stacks which sizzling from t h e ' ' ' ' - ' I .,'.,. ' u s h o W e d w h i t e pan, upon which if-aff? .tl ,Hg f- A against th e dark they poured golden , lil, li - K, ,Q A green forest. A blast Syrup from 3 Jar, g I--,QM x Y Q from the sawyard Having eaten they 1-lily ' gf X 5, '3' Whistle told GVGTY' h u r r i e d to the ' Q' 1 ,mba one that a steaming stables and hitched ' -,,fZy X ghngir was Waltugg their teams, then 4iV'1+ IU 9 COSY C00 Y- set out on the trail T, X xN Xxx q, houie. After dinneg to tl 15' b 13 d, wor was resume Longe lgnh irdsoaxlzy S As each sleiglz was piled high. it was' flrrzzrrz off to life ranzpf' and with the ex- stole f r o m each tree trunk as the sun crept from behind snow- laden hills, and clouds of steam rose from sweating horses, only to freeze and settle back to earth. Alighting from the sleighs the axemen set to felling mighty giants of the forest. Saws whined and axes bit as straining men bent be- neath the towering trunks of these forest mon- archs. Soon huge logs were rolling onto the log piles and as each sleigh was piled high it was drawn off to the camp, where the logs were, to hilarating w o r k. huge appetites were again built up. As it came to earth, a warning timber! rang the knell of each great tree, that took a century to grow and a day to fall. Higher and higher grew the piles in the lumber yard as the afternoon wore on. Hanging in the western sky the setting sun again cast lengthening shades throughout the darkening forest. As the last glow faded behind purple clouds, tired but happy men trudged home through the deep, cold, snow, to hearty meals and warm beds. Page N iueteen

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Nocturne by HUGH KENNER, xm A Ac. All diamonded, with quivering silver darted And shining bars, The lake breathes quiet, clasping the pale moon's daughter, Splendid with stars. The black pines, and the black pines in the water, Star-lustred o'er Stand sunder'd, shadow and wavering shadow parted By silent shore. The lndian's Return' by MARnoN BARRETT, xu B H. ARTS Plunging and rearing through places narrow, One frail canoe on that treacherous river, Shoots like a dripping silver arrow 'Leased from an lndian's long-bow quiver. He paddles well, that warrior bold, Though the vicious waters pound and churn, Over the rocks he slips their hold, While a dusky maiden awaits his return. The Indian's alert, though he chants a song, For he's paddled this way before, His heart is glad as he flashes on, Behind him now is the rapids' roar. Now over the sparkling water he glides, Then rings clear the Indian sentinel's call, On the setting sun's red rays he rides To his home on the shore, as shadows fall. The Old Mill DONALD WHITTAKER In a setting of rustic beauty is an old flour mill-a gaunt and de- serted building left by an ever-rushing and progressive world. A small stream trickles over the rotten log dam and the old raceway is but a bed of wash- ed rock. An old corduroy road, over-grown with grass and trees leads away from it and is lost in a vigorous growth of timber. As a large pine stands guard over the old mill its cone-laden branches brush the roof and the breezes sigh through its boughs. The roof has fallen in and the moss-covered timbers are beginning to decay. Creeping vines with long tentacles have covered two of the four windows, while the sturdy walls from which most of the plaster has fallen are showing the signs of having weathered many stormy years. The aged Water wheel has become loosened from its axle and lies in a pool of stagnant water. How many more years will it survive-this old land mark of the past? The Rain by ELEANOR DOYLE, Xl com. The blue sky darkens and the sun retires, And the birds all twitter with glee, The iiowers uplift their dainty heads, The bull-frog sings near the daffodil beds, And the rain sweeps over the sea. Gentle, refreshing drops of rain, Caressing each violet and rose, Each blade of grass and every Hower, Dancing alone or in shady bower, While the gentle breezes blow. Tiny rills of rain and sand, Running over the lea, Gaily singing and laughing on, As faster and faster they travel down To the foaming, white-capped sea. Refreshing each vale and meadow green, Giving the birds their drink, Luring each plant from out the ground, The dew-worm from his earthly mound, And flowing on to the swirling brink. Sweeping over the city streets, Leaving each roadside clean, A touch of fragrance from out the sky, Sent from the glorious One on High, From the azure blue to the fields of green. Page Twenty-one