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

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14 VOX FLUMINIS ODE TO STUDENTS With apologies to Mathew Arnold C The Forsaken MGTWIGRI Come you students, let us away! Away from book and pen. For who can help from going astray When the spring has come again, With the robin and the wren Now the southern breezes play Across the sky, Once cold and gray, One and all, let us away! This way! This way! Come you students, wipe Off the frown, Toil no more. One last look at teacher and gown, The bottle Of ink, just spilt on the floor, Then come down- CYOu can not learn though you strive all day! To the bay-come away! Students, could it have been yesterday That we heard a teacher say Exams will be coming any day? ' Through the turmoil and the swell We heard the sound of the recess bell? ' Or were we in a fitful sleep Among tall grasses cool and sweet, Where angry eyes would never gleam If it might even hopeless seem Some Algebra and History pound Into your head 'till it Ustruck ground Or where if e'er your Chemistry Is not as good as it should be You could not come back Saturday? But the week-end is over, we cannot stay, SO we must return for ever and aye. RUTH WOOD, '36, Douglas Hall. A CANADIAN BOAT sONG-MOORE. THE sun was quickly setting in the west when my friends and I were paddling slowly homeward after a long, hard day of work. We were singing and keeping time to our paddles when, out through the quiet of the evening, we heard the familiar chime of our own home church, Saint Anne. There was still some distance to travel before reaching our destination, so I urged my comrades to quicken

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VOX FLUMINIS 13 and, in attempting to put it up again, I found that my neighbor was sitting on a large corner of it. After several vain tugs I gave up trying to pull it out from under him, and settled back in my seat. Just as I was about to read the title of the first number, the lights went out, I rose for God Save the King, dropping, this time, only a glove, sat down again, and the curtain rose. ' D LYDIA KLEIN, '37, York Hall. HRIVERBENDN They start with Miss Crawshaw in grades one and two, There are some who are old, and some who are new, In grades three and four, as they take their knocks, Their guiding hand is our own Miss Vaux. Miss Gregory looks after the fifth and sixth grades, And attempts to improve the minds of the maids. Miss Dunlop has seven and knows how to sew, Miss Henley's the teacher of grade eight, I know. Miss Grant devotes energy, patience and time Teaching and pleading with pupils in nine, A Misses Shillington and Wilson in ten and eleven Require the patience and wisdom of heaven To teach girls to study, review, dig and delve In order to meet Miss Macdougall in twelve. At Miss Rutherford's work we must take a look, Both in the gym and the place where they cook. And last but not least we shall gratefully name Miss Carter, in charge of our Hall of Fame. My verses I close and bring to an end With three rousing cheers for our Riverbend 1 DoRo'rHY FoRsYTH, '36, York Hall. oUR PREFECTS We love our prefects at Riverbend, They play the game and faithfully tend Their duties, both at work and play, So well, that we can safely say, Here,s to Shirley, June and Dossie, Betty and Edna-and none of them saucy. Long may they live in health and prosperity, And their names and their fame go down to posterity. DoRoTHY FORSYTH, '36, York Hall.

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VOX FLUMINIS 15 their paddles. The clear, pure chimes were beginning to make us feel homesick, also darkness was rapidly falling and the dangerous rapids were still ahead to be safely passed. The water was calm and clear as a mirror, the pine trees rose sedately and reflected their strong arms in the deep water, the birds were settling in their nests ready for a good night's rest. Everything was becoming quieter. which gave us a feeling of satisfaction that cannot be put into words. The moon was rising over the opposite horizon and the first stars were dimly beginning to twinkle in the heavens. The rapids are drawing nearer so, Row my friends! or darkness will surround us and we shall be at the mercy of the rapids. We murmur a humble prayer to our Patron Saint in whom we put our trust. Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers, Grant us cool heaven and favoring airs. CATHERINE BINGEMAN, '39, , Garry Hall. HOW THE GOPHER GOT HIS STRIPES OHNNIE GOPHER was an inquisitive little fellow. He was always getting into trouble. Johnnie lived at the edge of the village of Rabbitsford. One morning in spring, Johnnie came out of his hole in the ground to find a newcomer building his house in the ditch near the road. Johnnie, of course, wanted to know all the details. I'll go around and peek in later on, when the house is built, he vowed. One week later the house was completed. The day after Johnnie heard sounds which greatly piqued his curiosity, sounds of tinkling glass, sizzling, steaming, crackling. He stole across the road and peeked in at one of the windows. A little black furry animal with two white stripes down his back, was standing in front of rows of test-tubes. In his paw he held a field mouse. In his other paw was a brush and near him was a tube of what looked like petrified paint. ln an instant Johnnie, too, was petrified. The animal turned round and saw him! Johnnie was conscious of a desire to breathe pure air. Black- ness descended. When he woke up, he found himself on a table with the animal bending over him, brush poised in mid-air. Johnnie gathered that he was to be used instead of the field mouse. The animal told him that he was testing a new permanent dye. Johnnie was turned over and painted. Blackness descended again. When Johnnie woke up he was in his own house, in his own bed. He got up and rushcdto the nearest mirror. His beautiful