The following set of notes in John Gardener's 'Bishops 150' (published in 1999 when Bishops was 150) refers to some of the the school's literary publications.  'But in 1939 John Brett restarted the society (Literary), for boys - on their initiative - to write and criticise literary work'.  This has continued ever since, and has fed contributions to publications such as Mitre, English Alive, the Bishops magazine and others. 

Paul Murray the school archivist takes a brief look at one of these publications, 'Mitre', among others such as 'Chronicle', 'Top Press', 'Concord', 'Newspeak' and 'Pieces of Eight'.  One of these publications that endured for a considerable amount of time, 'Mitre', published between the 70s and 90s, contains the creative writing of students of the College.  It would be impossible to do justice to all the talented and gifted writers in this limited space other than to invite anyone interested in reading to come to visit the Museum to see and participate in the exhibit. 

For a tour of the exhibit or the Museum, please contact Paul Murray between 0800 and 1400 on 0835159526. 

Here follows an example of a piece of writing (a poem) from the 1983 edition of 'Mitre.  It appears on page 30.  The poem is entitled 'African Myth' by Peter Anderson.

AFRICAN MYTH

Oh, let your plane trees rustle,
White-walled shantytown (graffitti).
Stare out the classroom window, boy,
And watch in winter-warmth the grey doves copulate,
The red of spring not even on their breasts.

For tomorrow the clarion bell will sound,
Final, as all bells are,
So that you may wrest your school-tie, noose-like, from your neck
And notice at last the road that smells of your greatness,
Of dust and dusty tar after the rain.

And when the showers have lifted their close, secure cocoon,
You may see in the hot wash of the west 
A flock of egrets in the ochre evening
Winging their way to the reedbeds - white on rust -
To haunt their roost on that green island.

But do not disturb them, as in your inky daydreams
You do the fornicating doves,
For the egrets are something different, noble -

The spirits of your ancestors
Going home.