Walkerville Collegiate Institute - Blue and White Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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BLUE AND WHITE Ah! mother, the boy you’re so yearning to see Is a little brass tag; The end of your dreams of the man he would be Is a little brass tag. Your beautiful visions of splendour have fled, Your wonderful man of tomorrow is dead, He went as a soldier but come back instead— Just a little brass tag. Children in London do not cry, When the bombers start to fly, They walk in never-ending line, To the Dugout, by the trolley line. When at last they are all in, And all the people find their kin, They all lie down in a huddled mass, They don’t care whether they lie on grass In London town! In London Town Doug Horne The lights go out, the sirens wail, And bombs starting dropping thick as hail On London town. The people do not go about, Shouting all their troubles out, People in pain do not wail In London town. - APRIL Betty Duddy Early in the month of April When robins come to their new homes, And days grow longer and gayer, Suddenly is heard from a tree on high, The songs of larks high in the sky. Buds begin to open their eyes, On the earth which beneath it lies, Rain falls from the heavenly skies, To bring to life the small buds and insects of the world. Page Thirty-six

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BLUE AND WHITE POETRY “Dawn Interlude” Anne King The wild wind tossed the waves up high, The mighty tempest roared; A seagull r ose with a startled cry, A tiny speck ’gainst the battered sky, Passing the struggling ship’s mast by, As to the land it soared. The shoremen gazed through the gath’ring gloom With strained and anxious eyes To where the ship, ’midst the breakers’ boom, Fought hard to save from a dreaded doom. Her men, while the sea, a wat’ry tomb Tried hard to claim its prize. Aboard the ship no hand was still— But night was almost through; The helmsman, fighting with all his skill Felt the faithful ship bend to his will; Seaward she turned, and a thankful thrill Ran through her gallant crew. A rosy glow’ from eastward came To drive away the storm; The sea, now wearied by her game, Was lying quiet, dormant, tame; The sun turned the distant sails to flame— Another day was born. Skies Defiled Mary Jane Luxford Enchanted lake, I saw thee there, Caught up in scarves of mist so thin; So soft and sweet the morning air. No wrinkle marred thy flawless skin. The ink of sky was not yet dry, For there, up in the guileless blue. Death wrote with blood, in letters high, Stark terror wrought by bombs, too true. 0 bird! I saw thee surge along On brave strong winds—and then You poured your liquid lilting song; Your message was of love to men. In other lands the birds come down, Demented creatures of the night, In flocks that blot a quiet town And leave it crumpled, crushed, alight. Great man made birds, how dare you fly To burn, destroy? What fools we be! Why can’t we see, God meant the sky For birds that sing to you and me? The Little Brass Tag on the Banks of the Rhine Graham Armstrong All that is left of her wonderful son Is a little brass tag; All of her baby that shouldered a gun Is a little brass tag. He that so proudly marched off in the line, Clear-eyed and smiling, and splendid and fine, Is home once again on the Banks of the Rhine, Just a little brass tag. He with the eyes that were friendly and blue Is a little brass tag; He with the shoulders so square and so true Is a little brass tag. He that came forward to fall with the flag; To ride with a sabre, or march with a Krag; You’ll find him wnth thousands shipped home in a bag, Just a little brass tag. Page Thirty-five

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SPRING FEVER by J. P. L- Love me, Honey ? Sure I do. Kiss me, Honey ? ’Fraid to. Cold? About to freezs. Want my coat? Just the sleeves. Full or empty? Full, please. Winter Climax Claire Bontront, 13-C Icicles hung from the roof tops, The snow was piling high. The wind around the sparkling eaves Went whistling merrily by. The landscape looked so peaceful, Covered with glistening snow, It seemed to defy the north wind, Just daring it to blow; The tang of the frosty morning Nipped many a rosy cheek, As a new, gray dawn awoke to find That winter was at its peak. In the cheery springtime rain, Jimmy Cockroach sings again; In the soft enchanting breezes, Mr. Cricket gets the sneezes. All the fleas in bits of rope, Warble forth their songs of hope; Little mice come scurrying out To greet us with a song and shout; Frogs and toads in colours gay Croak to greet the coming day. Spring has such a cheery sound, ’Specially down around the ground. Dorothy Woods and Phyllis Martin, 10A. Page Thirty-seven