June 1931 School Magazine

Brishane Girls' Grammar School Magazine.

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School lVlagazine"

sinrply beautiful, isrr't itV " yoo rcplv, ancl proceed- to ponder over the laet that you have spoken on the f orbid clen subject before you are a, hunclrecl yards'from honie. But you exeuse yourseif on the score that polileness clemandecl a reply to that question. Having reachecl the street corner, )'ou step into the first tram that, comes anc1, for once, fincl a rracant seat. Soon *yoo become conscious that the girl opposite you is srniling at you a ncl rllurmuring your name. You knorv her face, but cannot renrember u'ho she is. She is obvi- ously waiting f or: you to speak, so you stammer out sornething like this: '( What a long tjme it is since I last saw you. Do you iike the cold rveather ? " A f erv minutes later During the course of the clay )'ou speak on the salne subject with & gentlernan, who is a friend of )-our father ts, with a shop dssistant, ancl r'r'ith your hairclresser. Also, to vary the monotony a little, y-ou enter into a discussion with a friencl on the respective rnerits cf Sum- ruer ancl Winter. Of course, there m?ry have been ot'h er conversations, but these ate all you can remember when you go to bed and. think over the d ay ts 'events. Recalling a certain maxim which was instilled into you in very early clays, you clecicle to begin again on the rnorrow, though you try in vain to conjeeture whether your second attempt will meet with better success than the first. Ifowever, ( ( Dum spiro, speror'' ancl-this weather really is too co1cl for nre to write any more. -Alma Hartshorn, YI. It's a funny thing, rvhen you think of it, but I always knew I l\ras meant to be. A, poetess. Tirne ancl again when I saw the sun rise or :s€tr I have felt a poetic fire in me. What a, poetic fire is exactly I ,don't know; nevertheless tliat is what I have often f elt. ( ( Po etry " rsomething rvhisperecl inside tne ( ( is lvonderful, it is glorious. '' I always meant to write poetry, but, then, I though I had, better wait till f learned. how. I never coulcl make words rhyme, ancl soinehow the lines would never measure rrght. ( ( Why, can't we rvrite poelr;r just as \ve like ? , , I said. ( ( No rhymes or feet to it-just poetry, if you know what I mean.,' Nolv, in our stucly of literature at school we reached the Classical period., ancl to my clelight here were the verl rules I had been looking THE PATHS TO FAME AR,E THOR,NY. you stancl up f or an elclerly 1ac1y, who seems a kindly worcl in return for your good, deed. my dear. What a cold. clay it is! t t Fortun- mincl, she expects no answer from ;'ou, but next her, and aclilresses a sirnilar remark to to think that you cleserve / ( Thank you v€r;r much, ately for vour peace of turns to the nran sitting hinr.

ANZAC.

O Gallipoli ! fn the mist of clawn's clim twilight, touchecl b;' the blooctr-recl sun, To the ghostly zipl of bullet, ancl boom! of foeman's gun Once more they keep their tr;rst on your barren, bloorl-stained shore: Their race is run, their battle won; their nam.e lives everrnore. O Solclier ! See norlr' yorl torv'ring rock-ghostly grey a,nd. griin, Tracecl by the hancl of rnernorv on the f ar horizon's rim: If ear now the inufflecl swish ! of oars, ancl roar es the endless wav e Breaks in a clreary monotone at the foot of the Anzac ts grave. O llf other ! There is no cause to \l'eep: srnile then, content anrl. proud, He gave his life for his eouutrt--his glory' is his shrou.cl!" O Australia ! Remember Anzac! . On the roil of cleathl ess f ame Inscribecl is tirat glorious dt-.ecl. Australia! reverence their nanre, Sons of a greater Britain, l3ritons, and proucl of their birth, Loyal sons of Austraiia-their country knows their rn'orth. O England, ! Shoulcl vour clarion-call echo agzrin througir the yeal's, ( Out I\{other Country need s us t '-wliere a re Au,stralia 's f ears I ( ( Who loseth his life shall find. it. " Lif e that is ours to gir,'e Attains at last its zenir"h, if rve tlie that sh.e lrray live. But the clreaclful thuncler of battle no longer rumbles afar: The storm of hatrecl is over-clethronecl is bhe Gocl of War. Let the lamp of fraternal peace burn rvith a, steaclfast liglit Sheclcling its beam,q eternal on a worlcl of truth ancl right. -l{onica Crooke.I, Vf. WHETHER THE. WEATHER. You hal'e macle up yorlr nrind th:rt, regarclless of u'hat other people nlay clo, Iour at least, will not ollerl conversations rvith trite remarks about the weather'. Neu' Year's Da;' is months ahead. You wou.lcl not clream of waiting as long as that to put your resolution into practice. No, you seize Time by the forelock and begin irirmecliately. Yorr walk clolvn the street in the morning ancl see a neighbour standing in her garclerr. :\s you pass she smiles lirightly at you and says: ('Goocl morning. Ifow do you like this weatherg " ( ( Oh, it is What comforting voie e raises the gre), bent heacl ? ( ( IIis spirit is immortal. He cliecl-yet is not cieacl.