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A CLASS AND A YEAR.
The year rolls 'round. Once more
A class those rites partakes
Which sever them from High, School things
While heart-deep is a joy that rings,
And sadness dies, or happy sings,
But one more time.
The past is gone; the present breaks,
The future's at the door;
Seventeen, thy task's not o'er.
Through many dangers we have passed,
Through many a searching test;
Those terrors fear we never more,
We've 'scaped them all-with rush, and roar
As on high waves our river bore
(Niagara rushing high)
'Mongst reefs and shoals, to rest,
The class that's latest under sky,
Seventeen, to port at last.
The class of Seventeen-a year
Famed far beyond our sight,
Fated to live in minds of all,
As when War took the world in thrall
And tossed it, as a child his ball,
To perils multifold.
In worthy war and right,
Our people our ideals uphold-
Freedom, all else that's near.
Near to the heart-inspiring thought!
The men who for us bled,
Our fathers, answered, so do we-
To be and not to seem to be-
Our country calls, let us be free
From Despotism royal ;
We go where e'er the need declare,
Not all as soldiers toil,
The best remains ahead;
Still higher those are deemed, whose might
In helping lines has fought.
JOHN L. BENHAM.
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Niagara School 1917