Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 24 text:

SEA MAGIC Hut wlii-ii iIh- iiiooii, Ih on tlie waiK ' , riie waters { lide ba(;k To the sea a ain; Tlie cliarni Jias died, With the dyirifi waves, The beauties liichJeii In mystic caves, And there they wait, Till the next flood tide. And spell-bound magic, Come side by side. Joan Thackray, Form IVb., Ross House. EVENSONG As dusky twilight creeps upon the land. And silver studs bespangle velvet skies. The spirit of the forest folds her wings And softly sings her evening lullabies. From every grove melodious throats pour forth The flute-like notes that are the soul of song. The stately pine trees sway their heads and sing. As cool wind passes whispering along. The breezes toss the branches of the trees, And rouse the mirrored surface of the pool. In tiny ripples lapping on the shore Within the sleeping forest deep and cool. The cricket draws his bow across the strings And eerie cries of tawny owls are heard. And somewhere in the depth of all the darkness Tlie haunting cry of some night-flying bird. Tlie steady hum of myriad tiny wings Sounds gently through the warm and silky air, And with the bell-like tones of nightingales riic evensong is rising everywhere. l AMKr.A Ikvine, I ' orm VIa., Barclay House. [2?.] At the new moon, The tide is high. About the wharf, Deep waters sigh; The gentle waves. With ghostly grace, Sweep softly on With rhythmic pace; And fancy bright, Alone can know What beauties lie Shimmering below.

Page 23 text:

I ' m goiiifr on shore now. I ' ve crossed the channel and I ' m going to land in France , and one of the boys made for Miiller ' s liideout. Then the boy caught sight of him. Hello. Hello, said Midler. Hey, Freddy, come here, I ' ve got a German prisoner! Midler gave a gasp and was about to run, when the boy smiled. We ' re pretending to he commandos, he said. You don ' t mind being our prisoner, do you? Midler was so relieved that he agreed. He watched the two as they played together, and wondered liow they could be so ignorant of war. A seven-year-old in his country would know more. He liad to walk alongside the boys, as Freddy was keeping hold of him. Suddenly they came to a clearing where a man and woman were sitting. The boys ran forward. Mvnn, Dad, this is our prisoner! Miiller hung back, hut tlie boys ' mother laughed and said, I ' m sorry our boys have been bothering you. We ' re just going to have a picnic lunch. Won ' t you join us? We have plenty. Miiller agreed to stay. He gave his name as Stephen Miller and said that he was on a tramping holiday. After lunch the man said, We ' d be pleased if you would come to our house for supper. There ' s to be a debate in the village this evening about tlie attitude of the government to the war. You might be interested in hearing it. Miiller thanked him, but said he must be on liis way. As he stood up he heard the two boys arguing. You can ' t be Churchill, said Freddy. You ' re too handsome. Churchill ' s fat like me. Miiller waited for their mother to scold them for speaking like that of their leader, but she just smiled tolerantly and wished him good luck. As he walked through the woods he compared England and Germany. The differ- ence in the civilians ' food here, their happiness, their kindness, their liberty to say what they liked about their government — all made him realize the complete contrast. He wondered why he was trying to escape. Escape? He was giving up liberty for bondage. Suddenly he understood the feelings of people who had wanted to get out of Germany and go to England when war broke out. He had a feeling that he had been sent to England for a purpose, and suddenly he determined that if he could get to Germany he would he lp others to escape. He had quite a high position, and some opportunity for helping them. Yes, he would help them to escape to a free country, to England, so they could aid in making Germany free, a country from which no one would need to, or want to, escape. Lois Tyndale, Form VIa., Fairley House. [21]

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FROM A LIGHTHOUSE IN THE ST. LAWRENCE At last the summit of the tower is reached, We hreathe the keen, salt air, and gaze around; Below us, we can see the cliffs and cairns, Where thousand upon thousand gulls abound. From east to west this rugged isle extends, And to the north we see the distant mouth Of that fair river, known throughout the world — The Saguenay. Blue hills are to the south. Above all these there floats a flag on high, The flag of freedom, — and from shore to shore Men ' neath her, grateful for their liberty. Arise, and cry — This is worth fighting for. Barbara Ross, Form Vb., Ross House. ON GETTING UP IN THE MORNING THE house is quiet. You are fast asleep and having a lovely dream. Just as you stretch your hand out to shake hands with the King, a window slams. You stir and grunt. What was that! You open one eye. Maybe it ' s morning; it couldn ' t be, it ' s pitch black out and besides, you have to shake hands with the King or you ' ll be late for the train. Just as you ' re about to settle down, a cheery voice rudely interrupts with, It ' s time to get up !