Page 36 - 1964

34
Oevt Sodetlf
S~la
Doug Baird XIIB
The society of which we are a part, Is a tangled web of archaic laws.
It is ruled by force and not the heart: Woe to him who encounters its claws.
Self-righteous leaders set standards high And regard non-conformists as funny. While one hand holds the Just torch high-
The other is counting the money.
Society can make an exile of man, For his colour, religion, or race;
Self-styled good citizens do what they can, But he'll vanish from view, without trace:
Justice and evil walk hand-in-hand, When a few people have the right
To absolute power, o'er a whole land - To ban a book, to take a life.
The peacemakers argue, with gro~ms and with sighs,
When they get together to talk;
They glare at each other with furtive eyes,
As a rat might regard a hawk. They slap each other upon the back,
And shake the outstretched palm:
Then, scurry home with the rest of the pack-
To a bigger and bett~r bomb.
Once in a while a man won't be bought, With the guts to stand up and fight,
Will hold high his torch and give all he's got For what he believes to be right.
But when the last words have left his tongue, When into the night he has go:-te,
So::::iety moves down another rung- And the Mob goes shuffling on.
'R~ 7o
S~t. "rii~adie
Bob Hiscox X[B
Laughing voices, scraps of song, Lusty music, loud and strong; Rustle of the banners blowing, Whispers as of rivers flowing, Whistles of the hawks we bore As they rise and as they·soar; Now and then a clash of drums As the rabble louder hums;
Now and then a burst of horns Sounding over the brooks and bourns As in merry guise we ;.vent,
Riding to the tournament.
7o uLadlf 'it~'' seft,UJJt 2~ed
Jim Bellamy 13A
Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing, I will my acquaintaince strangle, never
yielding,
And on my once tarred tongue, I kno-.v full W '3ll Thy sweet-beloved taste no more shall dwell.
From mine own weakness, we were long acquainted;
Alas! Henceforth my lungs are tainted.
Thou, in losin5 me shall likely win ano:her, And in the same way, try your best to smother.
Deceiving comfort, now my greates t grief, Once to me so dear, but now oftime, the thief. No more yo:.1r services do I require, Even during times of great desire.
Always from your clutch shall I be swerving. For your great riches, where is my deservin5?
7~ ZJeatlt o1 L'le s eltUJJt 3 ~td
Linda Oxford XIB
The Sun rose high in the Western sky, Bringing the light of day.
Of those who saw, but one would know That it would pass away.
And he who saw, and he who knew, And he who planned the way,
Knew as the Sun came into view What lay within the day.
Of those who watched, of those who saw, Of those who with him c·ame,
But one would know the man would die, And who would bear the shame.
The Sun sank low in the Western sky, A nation held its breath-
The light of life sank slow away
And left not life-but death.