Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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VOX FL U ill I NI S Page Twenty-six A Pomivi FoR HOMEWORK? i N THE first place, there are two vastly different ways of writing a poem. The easiest a-nd I think the best way is to see something or think of something and feel as if you wanted to write a poem about it. I am sure a good deal of bad poetry must have been written at one time or another, and I'm equally sure a large part of it was written for homez work. The night before such a masterpiece as this has to be handed in, or sometimes, it is to be feared, the night after, I, the potential poetess, sit down with a blank sheet of paper in front of me and take my pen ifn hand just as so many others have done before me. What can I write about? Haven't I heard somewhere that the world is full of a number of things- ships and sealing wax, cabfbages and kings? But none of these articles, varied though they be, suggest much in the way of a poem. Nature is always good as a last resort, but too many people resort to it. Vifhy, I wonder, should anything so beautiful supply the inspiration for such a proportion of worse than mediocre verse. Somewhere out of the past comes a hazy recollection of a Latin class with a muse of poetry in it. but that doesn't help. Did Xklordsworth write To the Daffodils just because he wanted to write a poem? I donit think so, and were those lines of Shelley's, which always give me and hundreds of us who read them a little inward thrill, composed after a lot of hard thinki-ng? They couldn't have been! But I, without a single spark of their genius. must write a poem for homework. VVhile I sit thus turning over in my mind the injustice of being asked to write poetry suddenly there is another side to the question. Even I know that mine is not good poetry but how much more pitiable my efforts must seem when read by one who knows something about it all. Still another thought pushes itself to the fore in my muddled brain, how many people have read all of even the best poetry which has been written down through the ages? I shouldn't thi-nk many have done it, and I wouldn't really be surprised if none could boast of this accomplishment. VV ith this point in view, it seems strange that it should be desirable for me and my classmates to write poetry at all. Besides which, doubting Thomas that I am, I do'n't think that the people who wrote the best poetry were taught to do it in any classroom. ' And all the rambling of my thoughts notwithstanding, I still have neither title nor poem to hand in tomorrow. -Margaret Aldous, Grade XI., Douglas Halli Editoifs N otc-These are my personal and not my official views.

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Page Twenty-five V VOX FLUMINIS on the pia-no. VV ent up stairs over more books. At the second door they were lined up, the only roomr however. In the eleven room everybody fwho couldj was perched on the radiator. The second bell went and silence followed a few minutes laterg followed also the late members. After prayers came the morning grind, with a little irregularity in bells as it was Monday and I was not used to the duty. Then came recess, and on the way to the milk aind biscurit room instead of climbing over books, I climbed over jack players, who used up all the available floor space. Next break was lunch, and in the washroom everybody washing at thesame time. After lunch I had to jump across more jack players to get to the gym. where a few of the non-jack players were firing requests at our pianist. , The afternoon was spent at a lafb. lesson C side attraction church gos- sipj and a gym. -class with grades tern and twelve. After study I waited around till one of the prefects had rounded up the people who insist on staying till 4.45. then left. , Q Bad radio reception, more homework done in consequencej -Nancy Morgan, Grade XI, Douglas Hall. A WISH O, give me a tent on some far lake-shore, There's nothing whatever that I'd like more, XV here the ripples frolic with zephyrs at play. And everything makes me feel happy and gayg VV here sunbeams dance in spritely style With little waves, while on them smile The kindly skiies of heavenly blue. Tinting the waters with their hueg XV here I can sit with my favorite book, Or lazily sprawl in some shady -nook, Wfhile I hark to the babbling sounds of a spring, And the joyous songs of birds on the wingg XV here breezes laden with sweet perfume Cool me in the heat of the afternoon. And as they breathe through leaves a-nd grass. Make woodland music as they passg VV here I. on velvety moss. can lie I And gaze with awe at the starlit sky. VVhi1e the moon bathes all with a silvery light. Till I'm lulled to sleep, 'midst the beauty of night. -Alison VVarner, Grade XII., York Hall.

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Page Twenty .seven VGX FLUMINIA GRADE XII. Six girls we are in a library old Which is stuffy and hot,or freezingly cold, Where things often happen which never are told And where teachers endeavor our young lives to mould. That lady called Luck was our greatest friend VVhen toxus she did Miss Macdougall send, A regular sort. though we hate to relate. One Whom We really don't half 'preciate. Cur president Edith who loves asking questions, Amuses the class with her artful suggestionsg In sports Inas Helen does brilliantly shine, y Making baskets, of course, her particular lineg Aline, our student, who thinks with great ease, Attacks all her problems like niouses do cheeseg Sonie of the hobbies which janet enjoys Are singing, and dancing, and skiing, and boysg Helen, our niinstrel, skips gaily along, Greeting every new crisis with snatches of songg Alison's talents are yet to be shown, We must ask you to wait until she's full grovvng We are honored in English by Elenor Lee, Wfhose encounters with Pickwick we all watch with gleeg h So these are the girls in that library old Which we like though stuffy, or freezingly cold. VVe hope We're not boring or being too bold As with pen and rhyme we this picture unfold. -Edith Haig and Alison NVar1ner, Grade XI.