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Page 27 text:
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Vox Fluminis 25 THE FAIRY BALL THE TUB The fairies now dance while the moon Cwlth 3130102165 'CO Barry shines bright, Cornwalw The great white owl is making his flight. The queen of the fairies has sent out a call To ask all the fairies to come to a ball. The queen is dressed in pink and gold With a crown of silver and a wand to hold. Her wings have the colors of the rain- bow bright, And they sparkle and gleam in the pale moonlight. They all join hands in a fairy ring, And every fairy begins to sing. The queen serves feast of fruit and wine, Then every fairy sits down to dine. The clock strikes five and all jump up To clear away each plate and cup. They have had a feast and a lot of fun, But the sun is rising and they must run. Elizabeth Ann Beaton, Grade IV, Douglas Hall. ALBERTA'S CALL When the willow buds awaken Once again to greet the light, And I hear the grey-clad squadrons Surging northward through the night. When along the gravelled beaches Laughing waters rise and fall, On the winds that sweep the prairie I can hear Alberta call. And where beyond the lonely plains The snow-crowned Rockies rise, Where placid mountain lakes reflect The fair Alberta skies, Where crystal rivers, glacier-born- The Elbow and the Bow- Thru' rocky gorge and pine-clad steep Run singing as they flow, There ever turn my wandering thoughts, 'Tis there I long to go, To seek the trails by lake and stream That once I used to know. Louise Trewhitt, Grade X, Douglas Hall. The tub, the tub, the old bathtub, The soap and brush with which to rub! Without a grunt, without a sound I run the dirty regions round. I strain at spots upon my back- To get to them takes quite a knack. I'm in the tub, I'm in the tub- Hurrah! Hurray! And glub, glub glub!- With the ceiling above and the floor below, And splashings everywhere I go. - If a storm should come and awake the deep What matter? I shall soak and sleep. The water grows grey, the soap grows less, The bathroom, all told, is a terrible mess. I sing and whistle with all my might Into the darkest hours of night, And never was heard such an outcry wild As the sound from the throat of this dirty child. I shall live always, each Saturday night Through all my life in a similar plight, With wealth to spend and power to range, But never, never will come a change. And death, when it comes to this poor land-lub, Will probably come in the old bathtub. Pat Bernard, Grade X. Douglas Hall. . N0 LONGER NIGH With rue my heart is laden For golden hours I knew When spring was in my garden, And I was there with you. Now summer clothes my garden, But sad of heart am Ig The roses bloom unnoticed For you're no longer nigh. Helen Palk, Grade XI, Nelson Hall.
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Page 26 text:
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24 Vox Fluminis and the crowds of people all formed a background. I was one of the few who returned the next year to take Grade XII. What fun the three of us had in the Red House! It is true that sometimes classes were forgotten, sometimes we did not do our work. Maybe that is why I enjoyed the last year of my schooling the most. I do not think that was the reason, however. It must have been because I liked the work better, and that probably meant that we did not do only the work that the curricu- lum required. What fun it all was! Tears there were, too, and how bitterly I wept at the tender age of ten, when I learned that my favorite doll was broken, and that I could not take it back to school! Those funny haircuts, the little short ones, and the darkest shades of nail polish. Oh dear, I seem to be falling asleep. Remember the cake we made in cooking class-and-the--- Yes, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the fire had died down and the ashes were falling gently. What was I thinking about? Oh yes, Riverbend- the school near the bend of the river, and above it the sea-gulls' shrill cries. Marjorie Kehm, Grade XII, Garry Hall. BRAIN FANCIES I I think my mind is a workshop with different little cells in it. There are tiny fairies living in these cells. They are like owls which are awake all night and asleep most of the day. Joan Carruthers, Grade VI, York House. II My mind, I think, could be a lovely place to store information, but my teacher says to me, Joy, your mind is like a sieve. And maybe so! Joy Knox, Grade V, Nelson House. III I always think of my brain as being a small box. In the box there are little compartments. In each there are papers on which are written my thoughts. Sometimes I forget the combination. That's when I can't remember things. Sometimes I don't close the door securely, and the papers blow away. Then I have to get new ones and lock them up again. Each new thought is typewritten onto paper as soon as it enters the box. Sometimes they are written incorrectly, and then I have to rewrite them. Sheila Smith, ' Grade VI, Garry Hall. IV I think of my brain as being round. In it are two little men. There are in the middle of the floor two hoops run- ning parallel. On these are thousands of little papers. When I think, a note is written on the paper. During an examination, my little men flip the pages to the right note. Sometimes my little men get lazy and then I don't remember things. Sometimes they get mischievous and I do stupid things at wrong times. Some- times they get sleepy, then I do, too. Sometimes they are brighter and flip more quickly, but sometimes they go slowly. ' This is what I think of my brain. Julia Ann Harris, Grade V, Douglas Hall. -.. .1--1-1 THE CHRIST CHILD Then upon a Christmas clear Was born the Christ Child, small and dear, Beside Him His gentle mother lay, He was bedded on soft sweet hay. Wise Men coming from lands afar Had begun to follow the Eastern Star That led them to where He lay Abedded in the soft sweet hay. On this Christmas day . Where our King so holy lay Kings and shepherds came To honor His great name. Mary Mathers, Grade VI, Douglas Hall.
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Page 28 text:
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