Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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AUTUMN Grasping for the last warm summer days. The trees are long hands reaching up the sky, And here and there a bright leaf floating by Is caught and held. The north wind tears the haze That lingers over stubble fields of wheat. Hiding the autumn ' s ravages. It seems A vain attempt to give men vainer dreams, A phantom symbol of a vanished heat. Now grey rains come, and hoarfrost on the ground — Realities in autumn ' s unreal world Where woods mist-shrouded stand, and not a sound Breathes in the potent stillness, but from curled And dripping leaves the heavy drops come down — A transfixed breathlessness, and leaves wind-whirled. HE eastern horizon became shot with streaks of orange, as the sun began JL its journey across the heavens. The streaks became more and more vivid, and the sky around them flushed a soft pink. This rosy light gave the walls of the castle a far away, dim look. I could not be sure if it was there or not. Is it real? I asked myself. The only way to find out is to go and see, I replied. I began to run, stumbling because I could not take my eyes away from this mystical building. When I arrived within forty yards of the castle, I stopped, horror struck. I realized that my castle of dreams was a heap of stone, not even worth using as a sheep shelter. Just rubbish! What a let-down! As I walked slowly homeward, I was sad and depressed. I realized how many things in life look beautiful and fairy-like from a distance, but when one reaches them, they are not worth running after. Anne Begor, Arts VI, Gumming House. ILLUSION Jessie MacLean, Form IIIa, Ross House. [25]

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PHOTO CONTEST Diana Falkner, 1st prize. Betty Cook, Honourable mention. Jessie MacLean, 2nd prize. Diana Wood. Anne Johnson. Nora Shepard. [24]

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THE ADVANCING OF THE TIDE STANDING on the scorching sand, I stared out over the rolHng sea. The moon, which was but a small, white crescent in the afternoon sky, had started drawing the sea shoreward; soon the tide would engulf the miles and miles of silvery sand whereupon I now stood. I watched it come, bit by bit, so regularly that the rhythm of the sea gripped me and held me in its grasp. The whitecaps rushed in and burst, the foam rising nearer and nearer to my bare feet, and then subsiding. My eyes were glued to the sand before me, measuring the distance each time that the gigantic waves rolled in and broke. Closer and closer, each time just a little closer, until the sand was swept from under my feet, and my toes dug into the changing land beneath me. Again and again the waves tumbled in, back and forth, and their motion gripped me and held me in its grasp — the continuous rising and falling, rising and falling, until every movement within my body was rising and falling with the sea. The water rose higher and higher on my legs as it poured forth over the hot, dry land, then the under-current dragged it swiftly back, and at the same time, fresh sea rushed in past me. A gull swooped by and soared upward; still the sea was rising — rising and falling — and still it rose . . . Laureen Hicks, Arts VI, Fairley House. ADOLESCENCE I was wandering far and alone. Seeking the call of fortune. Alive and awake with the dawn, And at night fading into the mist. I wandered past rivers running to sea, Past lakes, and mountains, and towns. Like the wind I wandered alone and free, Still not by fortune found. I did not know what I was seeking, I knew only it had to be found. So I wandered on like the stream, Onward and into a pond. The pond was calm, not the sea of life; It was happiness pure, without strings. But, like the fool that I was, I wandered on And left the pond behind. RoNNE Heming, Form IVa, Fairley House. • • • [26]