The Hundred Different Kingsways of the Heart

We are the alumni. Every year
You’ll see us walk this campus lost in thought,
And some things are perhaps as they appear
But other things decidedly are not.

For though we stroll these pathways side by side,
The school you see, I may have never known;
We may be walking stride for matching stride--
Each sees a school that’s hers or his alone.

I look and see a spot across the lawn,
Perhaps a favourite picnic site of mine.
You look and see the old Ad Building gone.
Where I see nothing, you see ivy vine.

You see Prof Shankel. I see Mrs. Hall.
Your C.O. Smith becomes my Mr. B.
No one size school could ever fit us all—
My Kingsway is another’s OMC.

Schools don’t grow old like old alumni do
With profs like Harry Taylor to enjoy.
And each year Kingsway was reborn anew
With Lofthouse, Copeland, Rasmussen, Lafoy.

So don’t think that it somehow is the date,
The hundred years, that sets this time apart.
This weekend, let us rather celebrate
The hundred different Kingsways of the heart.