1971 School Magazine

.74 '.7..&

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Yes, I do admit I love Her, Thoush I but granted a breath of Her to see, But ihat a heiving, sighing breath; Plucks sad stings of heart longing to be Iree' Ah, see Her peePing from the leaves, Dancing down the golden warmth Aimbing up the silver coolness, Ptaying with the lantems of the night. Lo. behold Her prancing gleefully so neor, But like a butterfly she suddenly flies, A glance she flings so boldly back to me- Aid tosses Her iead; dipped in purest flowers' l4/hen the new day lays the old to rest, Wen the past and present kiss and part, 'Tis then She sits on the moon so silently And I know, I am precious in Her heart.

}4IKE COLE

Tabitha VIC

Annette Hoffman, IVB

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Red paper poppies sold on the street comer lilhite flowers laid on unremembered graves Old men march on the streets.

Running, running, grabbing the first chance of security Droplen falting, falling, through his brow-^ -- His black image leaptng, leaping over pit falls- As he flees from the mental strain of Life- The goal, now so distant, oh'tis hard to resch. Striving, winning, but no. Only t"o be thro-in down, caught by his own self pity' The undergrowth of age drifts Past As he, who has r1o present feeling goes on' Into the unknown, missing whnt ffi could hove had.

Schoot Chitdren standtng in two munutes silence (Stop giggting, Ann, the teacher will see us) Old men proud on the streets.

Bright ribbons dangling from khaki chests Gallipoli relived in crowded bars Old men drunk on the streets.

The end of the daY, GalliPoli fades Red paper poppies strewn in the gutter Old men cry on the streets-

B. Rowbotham, VB

Penny Hill,3A

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