July 1957 School Magazine

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Maqazine

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Maqazine

July. 1957

July, 1957

BETTY WOOLCOCK ESSAY-1956. "Ah! that a man's reach should exceed his g rasp Or wha t' s a heaven for?"

Middle and Lower School Lyric Competition, 1956.

CITY SYMPHONY

-Browning.

I From this block of marble so white and pure I will carve a statue to the Glory of my God. It sha ll be in every detail the utmost in perfection,

A changing, restless, eager song Of pulsing life; A dragging, toiling, weary tune Of ceaseless strife; The prolonged accompaniment of the monotone murmur of voices Is broken sharply By the shrill treble of a news-boy's shout Ringing clearly.

For my God is He not perfection in itself? So shall my Piela be a symbol of the One Who being perfect died for our transgressions . Then with colours rare I'll tint that symbol dear That my statue may live and touch all men To deep and lasting love for One so pure and true. II So I carved and hewed and shaped; I chiselled a nd rubbed and formed; Yet that statue wasn't the same a s the one I had in my mind. But disconsolate tho' I was, I started out anew To sculpt a gain a Piela to the Glory of my God . III Again I tried and again I failed to make a perfect thing. My friends they came to stand and look To see once more it cast aside. They went away and talked of me and how I was wasting my time, Then suddenly they came no more and I was all alone Excep t for the love of one true friend who brought me all the news. He told me how they la ughed and scoffed; ·They said to him, "His reach exceeds h is grasp." But I toiled on unheeding still! IV Seeking for perfection, that I hoped would come one day. And then I started thinking, "My reach exceeds my g rasp; Perhaps I never should have tried to equal what was God's !" My tools, they lay untouched as I pondered on this thought. Then one day came this thought to me, "Wha t's a heaven for?" I found the answer in the words of those who scorned me . It is for us to strive for in our life upon this earth. We may reach for it bu t never can we grasp it. While we dwell upon this earth, our reach exceeds our grasp. But still we hope to reach and still we s trive for that Which is the Crown of life-a Heaven, a God to dwell with evermore. v So straightway I took my tools to carve again my statue, Conviction ringing clearly in my ears and drowning a ll the sounds Here was some flaw, there another and yet another; In the fa ce of the Virgin was a cold stone glare And not the sorrow tha t should have been there . Imperfection was a ll I found in that statue to my God; For I believed that victory crowns the jus t , And so on and on I toiled far into the years

Ripples of light splash on the pavement- Flickering, failing; The gloom of night brings terror and tragedy- A siren wailing; A ponde rous step stirs the listening darkne ss. Steady and strong; The muted hours trail in his footsteps, Dreary and long.

Brazen beat of the noon-day sun On the copper sky; Echoing thud of a thousand feet Hurrying by: Slow, sluggish roll of the laden river- Clashing harmony; This is music I know and love- A city symphony.

-RHONDA VICKERS.

That threatened to disturb my toil as I carved on. It d id not matter now if my statue was not perfect, For I would strive a little more each time Towards perfection, with perfection as my goal. Men shou ld always strive towards what cannot be. To aim a little higher than the level we can reach, Is to justify our actions in the Eyes of our Great Maker. 12

-MERREL WILLIAMS.

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