December 1951 School Magazine

December, 1951

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

December, 1951

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

The playful pup to it gave chase; It galloped through them all; They, screaming, scattered without grace : Poor E would have to fall. The sheep had made her " loop the loop", She landed on a sest : To the horror of the near-by group, It toppled at their feet. And when, at last she did arise, H&r leg could stand no weight. Alas! poor girl, she sits and sighs And thinks of sheep with hate. Just then J. towards the gym. did pace With thoughts of games ahead, When round the bend the sheep did race, And J. before 1t fled . -- - - ----- A ~~~ S:-, _,_ ~ - ~---=c~""'~- Next thing she saw was sky above, Next thing she felt was sheep, Next thing she thought was not of love, Shame almost made her weep . For she is not a feather-weight, Ask those who've felt her feet, Or the_sheep, beneath her frame so great, Whom she did think "sheep meat". For when her strength at last had won And to . her feet she got, The sheep, crushed by her weight, ten ton, Stayed down, and up, rose not. Then in her eye a fear did g leam, Her bruises she ignored; She tried (here mirth made many scream) To get the sheep restored. To rescue her, there sallied forth A knight (the gardener) grim, Who greatly then increased her wrath, For he was short and slim. He lifted up the sheep with ease, Restored it to its feet, But even so, poor J's not pleased, As soon 'twill be sheep meat; 32

For then the gallant knight did - say, With mournful look in eye, "Next week this sheep V:,:ill go away, I hate to see it die." By then our E. enough was strong_ . Against the tank to leari. Now all call her "Hop-a-long", She'll soon be on the screen. And now each girl with sheepish face, (The tale has travelled far) Is teased by all in every place But only answers "Baa"! NIGHT OVER MORETON BAY A silence silvern once I knew, Over a moonlit sea; The rippling waters held me there By their rhythmic mins trelsy. Lapping, lapping on the foreshore, Motion ceaseless, never ending; Rippling on the cool night b~aches, Rhythm, quietness, soul-peace sending. All the air with shade was burdened, And across the heaving wave Little shore lights, dipping, rising, Laid their paths of silver pave. And the dark trees, whisper ing softly, As on silk the rustling sound, Reared against the rifts of heaven, Where the moon trod, pearly-gowned. Through dark clouds her way she wended, As o'er the sky swift race they ran; 'Twas with a sigh for perfect beauty I turned back to the hdurils of man.

-SPENCER

-Judith C. Green