Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

Page 27 text:

A PRAYER FOR CANADA Bless the land we love, oh God, This home of the mighty free; Bless the strong and silent hearts, That fight for liberty; And may the people of this realm Be worthy. Lord, of thee. We pray our country may become A fortress of the strong. Fearless to battle for the right. Resolved to crush the wrong; That victory, when these trials cease. May be our triumph song. Let selfishness be cast aside. Thy love divine preferred; Take all — a willing sacrifice. But let this prayer be heard. And give us but one great reward — Faith in thy living Word. Ann Taylor, Form Vb., Barclay House. [25]

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You {irimt, someone is talkinfi; to you. Gather your wiln togetlier. Someone said sometliiiifi; — mayhe it was tlie Kiuj;. No, no it wasn ' t. You try to sound very wide awake and say WliatV It ' s time to get u[). Your mind strujifiles to slide [)aek into dreams, but you ' re doinfi yf»ur l)est to awake. In a vain effort you try to say sometliinfi very comjtosed and serisihie, All, tliank you, but I-er, I don ' t tliink I care for any. You hear a lau| b, and someone goes out of tbe room turning on a light whicli practieally blinds you and makes you feel very annoyed as you dive deeper under the covers. Now comes the struggle. I know it ' s not morning. Why, it ' s .Saturday, of course! No, it ' s Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday. I ' ll just pretend I ' m not here so that I won ' t have to get up. Oh, just a little more time! Time, time, I wonder what time it is? You rapidly sit up and grope for the clock. After trying for quite a while to read the wrong side of the clock, you turn it roimd and hold it up very close to your nose. You stare at it belligerently. Five past eight, five past eight — Oh, yes, well then, that ' s lots of time. You fail back in bed. Five past eight — eight past five, five eight past. Five past eight, five past eight! No!! You spring up, awake. Yes, yes, it ' s five past eight. How awful ! Why didn ' t someone wake me up. Mutter, mutter, moan. Where ' s my blouse? Don ' t see why people don ' t wake — Hey, someone stole my stocking. If they ' d only wake me. Finally you ' re dressed and so your day begins. Mary Grimley, Form IVa., Ross House. THE LISTENING HOUR Night ' s vmeventful in the world of men, A dull, dead time; outdoors some unknown power. Rouses the countryside one stirring hour, And Nature wakes so she can sleep again. ' Tis then the first cock crows, not hailing day. But like some cheerful watchman of the night. Sheep break their fast on hilly mountain height. Faint silvery vapour shows the Milky Way. Above the wind-tossed trees I see the stars Sprinkled like diamond dust across the sky; The liills gleam in the moonliglit ghostly white. Listening to earth ' s silence. Men make wars To mar this peace. I pause and wonder why. Standing alone in the windy, starry night. Harriet Anderson, Form VTa., Barclay House. [24]

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SOUVENIRS DE VACANCES C ' EST un coin perdu de France: Une petite ile sur I ' ocean, bordee d ' immenses plages de sable fin. De profondes forets de pins sentant bon la resine et des vignobles riches en grappes mures au moment des vendanges se partagent le sol et formenl le.s traits dominants du paysage terrestre. Le reste c ' est la mer infinie, sans limites, le grand large. Les habitants heureux et paisibles vivent mi-partie du sol et nii-partie des fruits de la mer; culture des huitres et la peche dans les beaux jours. Les maisons basses, blanches, aux volets verts, chaque printemps repeintes a neul sont bordees de fleurs imprevues presque sauvages surgissant d ' entre les pierres comme des fees. La vie est calme, si calme qu ' on oublie le monde et c ' est le pays reve de nos vacances. Dans le port de peche, chaque matin, suivant les heures de maree, les bateaux ouvrent leurs voiles aux couleurs vives et varices souvent rapiecees de teintes diflferentes qui forment comme de petits arc-en-ciel dans le ciel bleu. C ' est un pays ou le progres entre a pas lents. Les femmes portent encore les kis-snot et les vieilles des bonnets. Les hommes ont des pantalons de laine rouge ou de toile bleue qui sont souvent aussi rapieces que les voiles de leurs bateaux. Ce n ' est point par manque de bien car I ' aisance regne dans chaque logis, mais plutot par I ' economie de bonnes menageres. Lorsque la guerre fut (U ' claree, le tocsin sonna a I ' eglise de St. Pierre: si Iristement et solciuicllenienl, enlcn(hi de cliaque liaineaii, elreignant chaque coeur. Puis ce fut la mobilisation el les jeunes partirent. Mcs (IcniierH souvenirs coMscrvcdl encore la Irislesse gcncrale cpii pesait alors sur rile et aussi de resperanc - (|iii aniniail les coeurs. Edith Steel, Form IVa., Cumming House.