Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 27 text:

I ' d watch the butterflies flit by, Have grasses growing near, And branches waving upon high, With blossoms hah the year. I ' d feel the rain drops cool and clear. Falling gently down. I ' d see the little violets dear In dainty purple gown. D. H. J.— Ill b ICurnuig by the §0a. A clear light tills the western sky, Merging into the blue on high. And the pink fleecy clouds in billows rest Just over the skyline in the west. Now a great white sail comes slowly by, And no sound is heard save the seagulls ' cry, And a lapping murnuu- amongst the caves, As a little sea breeze just tips the waves. And now the rose clouds turn to grey. As slowly, slowly they fade away ; The blue and the amber paler grow As the dusk creeps on ; the breezes blow More freshly now, and toss the spray. And the waves leap higher in their play. But now the dark is all about, And the lighthouse beacon flashes out ; The air hangs dull and mistily, And the surf beats heav} out at sea. M. A. — VT a. You ask me why, tho ' ill at ease Within the school I do persist, Whose spirits falter for a rest. And languish for the social seas. Dear friend, I do it not with will, But sober Education chose That here I stay until she knows That I could pass into McGill. E. C. F.— VI a. — 15 —

Page 26 text:

You encourage me, I said. Perhaps you aren ' t so studious as I imagined yo u in the picture. When did you graduate ? Ah, ha ! she said, this is History, I believe. I ' ll see what you can do. The sum- mer after I graduated I saw Queen Victoria, which was two years before she died. A voice interrupted my calculation. — I suppose the young people of Queen Victoria ' s age were rather staid, weren ' t they ? Something prompted me to stand. Oh, no they weren ' t, I said, something like us. I sat down and looked to my little friend for approv- al, but she was gone. A splodge of ink on the desk, and an inscription on the blotter, Right You Are, alone persuaded me that such an incredible thing could ever have happened. E. F.— VI a. I am the gong who stands in the darkest corner of the corridor on the second floor of the school. My motto is To look the world in the face and be a fresh sea-bree- ze. Some people make fun of me because of my broad, bronzed face and perpetual smile — but could I help smiling when I feel so happy. I love to think how useful I am, for you know, it is I who tell the teachers and girls when it is time for lessons, and one o ' clock. I am more or less looked up to for only r ' ixth Form girls are allowed to strike me. Some of them barely stroke me as if I were a pet cat, and when I try to sing the words stick in my throat. Some of them strike me with a firm, clean stroke — then I sing clearly and shi ' illy and am heard through the whole building. Then I really feci like a fresh sea-breeze ! I sometimes envy my neighbour, the fountain, whom the girls patronize after Basket- ball practices, and tell him how refreshing he is without even glancing at me ! Did you ever feel — but hush ! Here comes a prefect ; I know her by her gait. She ' ll strike me because it is certainly time that geometry lesson was over ! A. M. — VI a. I ' d love to be a daffodil Beneath the cool green trees. Where everything is calm and still. Except the passing bees. -14 —

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5rj|0 nt ty of a §torm The crickets are chirping, Their gay voices lurking Amid the green grass of a meadow near by ; The river is flowing, The wild wind is blowing, And chasing the white clouds across a blue sky i The rain comes a-pouring, The river starts roaring, The crickets are stilled and cease their shrill cry ; The thunder comes shrieking. The lightning comes streaking, The storm ' s at its crisis ; ' twill cease bye and bye. E. F. — VI a. — 16 —