June 1921 School Magazine

RhISBANE GIhI"S' GIiAMMAR SCHOOL MAGAZINB.

June,1921.

One Friday.

"It's basketrball," our captain ,said1 "So brighten uP Your faces," But y€t again mY heart was lead,

I wo:ke upon a ,frosty morn, 'Trvas cold as cold could be, So with a ro11 and mighty Yawn' I said, "Too cold for me." At last I lose and rushed around, I simply had to fly, nly case "lvars packe'd, my hat was found As time siipped quickly by. I missecl my train by being late, (My watch as.well being slow), I caught tlhe next, rbut oh, its rate! I nexrly horwied rvith woe. I came to school too late for prayers, For that I was ad,monished, But troubles always come in Pairs, So I rvas not astonished. I op'ed my case, for 'books to look, Then cried: "Oh, Sis, you sinner"! Iror in it there was many a book, But not, aia's, mY d'inner!

I forncl my shoes 'sans' laoes' At thlee p.m. I tennis Played, But bad luck followed there, We; lost trvo balls and thus rvero made To par't l'rom pennies dear' At five p.n1. as out I stepped To the plattorm from tthe train, I felt I really could have wep't, For down came the beastlY rain" I sot.tfloine very lvet at last, And told my taie of woe, But Mum said, as I broke mY fast, "I,t's Friclay, dear, You know." E. D., Forn V.

A Plea for the Children's Hospital.

But help they need. from every one Whom Health ancl Strength have,blest; Lel's pour in pennies bY the ton, And they will do the rest. 'f is true trvo co'ts 'we clo maintain' But hlppier we'd be, lf we rvotrltl tnalte the money rairt '!-rom out our Pockets free' Oh, sirlsl do nol Iteglect the cry That comes across to You; Let love for thosg who helPless lie Burn in you rleeP and true. Then fiI1 the box on Monday morn, May duty lead Your hand; With heart and soul togetirer drawn, Just give what they demanci'

()ur hearls are fllled with merriment, We joy, we laugh, rve PlaY; Naught tlo we lack ot goocl things sent By Gocl from dray to clay. But look across Victoria Park, To those less fortunate, Whose pa']lid faces 'bear the mark Of suff'ring, verY great. The in jur'd rvrithe,s in dread'ful pain, No joy can be his lot; The homeless dhild. with fever'd brain Lies restless in its co't.

The sympathetic nurses all, Their willing hands employ To comfort, s'oothe, at every cal'I, And' deadlY germs destroY'

D.C. Mc,C., Form IIIa.