^ PS 3503 .U19 S6 TONOPAH, NEVADA JVNE MCMX H COPYRIGHT, 1910. BY EDWARD NELSON BUCK (gCU268507 On. CONTENTS Page Alone 40 Arizona Orange, The 54 Babe of Bethlehem, The 11 Bourbon, Please, for Mine, The 39 But She Hadn't Learned to Cook 66 Charley-Hoss 27 Death of Marat 61 Dream of the Future Time, A 33 God's Acre 26 Good-bye, Old Year 49 Weals 57 "I Lfove You" 35 I'm on the Water Wagon Now 50 In Fidelis 30 In Paths Untrod 14 "Inyo, My Inyo" 65 "Just Do Your Best" 24 Kiss We Never Had, The 4 8 La Belle Mignon 59 Land of Fond Regret, The 43 Mah Honey-Bee 37 Mining Expert, The 67 Misjudged 47 Modern Maid. A 34 CONTENTS— Cwtinued Moods 4* My Creed 36 Nevada, My Nevada 13 Off Shore at Caplstrano 25 Optimism 53 •'Peace, Be Still" 60 Port We Never Reach, The 42 Progression 55 Recompense 51 Relief of Leyden, The 19 Serenade, A 22 Signs of Spring 44 Story of the Gulls, The 15 Success 31 Sunrise on Mount Oddie 41 Supposing 45 Thanksgiving Prayer, A 58 That Old Oaken Bucket 46 Those Beaming Eyes o£ Brown IT To Halley's Comet 32 To Hypnos 31 To My Father 23 Two Careers 18 Two Offerings 52 Two Presents 60 Unappreciated 29 When Knights Were Bold 56 When Teddy Gets Back Home 38 TO MY MOTHER As impassioned lover bears to the maid Who holds his very soul in thrall The gift he vahies most of all And deplores the off'ring so long delayed, So thus do I, today, bear unto thee This poorer token of my love. As tribute to a shrine above. This volume small of my minstrelsy. " I pray you, mar no more of my verses try reading them ill-favo^vredly." — Orlando in "As You Like It." Page Eleven SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ^be ^abe of ^etbUbftnt WAS midnight on far Judea's starlit plain; Tired Nature dreamed — a fitful night breeze Lazy stirred the nodding grass; and here and there A flock of sheep — less restless than their keepers, Who, with ear attent to the Great Mystery, Curiously watched, o'erhead, that new-born star — Slumbered content. The shepherds, expectant. Puzzled, half afraid, to each other whispered In halting, frightened accents, that this night Would the Host of Heaven the miracle reveal. Nature did itself, of The Coming conscious. Proclaim it with a thousand voices attuned To the brooding stillness of the night. And across these plains, in the fullness of the time. Came the three Wise Men; from far Chaldea, And the Farther East, had they journeyed. Bearing with them precious gifts for the Babe unborn — The promised herald of Man's regeneration. Day and night, thru sandy, desert wastes. Followed they that monitor, the Inward Voice, Ever west and west, until the sign celestial Shouldst appear and point the long-sought spot Of the Birth. And now the star. In mid-'day splendor, Poised above the homely Jewish village, Apprised the wanderers that their weary pilgrimage Had ended here at last. . . . SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Ttuebot And then the very heavens resounded With the joyful acclaim of angels chorusing "Peace on earth, good will to men" — the message The Messiah came to preach, until on Calvary His mission ended. The drowsing shepherds 'Midst sleeping flocks, heard the heavenly host To puzzle o'er the tidings. But the Magi of the East, With myrrh and frankincense, and costly gifts As would befit a scion of Cyrus' royal line. Found in the stable, on lowly bed of straw. The Holy One, smiling in His sleep. Whilst the Virgin Mother, crooning as mothers will. Lulled the Infant to restful slumber, the while The wide-eyed kine didst wonder at it all — That greatest miracle of Motherhood. O Holy Babe of Bethlehem! Light of the World! The wonder wrought that night in far Judea Shall be by man remembered and revered So long as time shall last. Other prophets, seers. Have there been whose message to this erring race Tended toward its uplift. But Thou alone. The Man of Sorrows, didst bring the balm of healing To the sort of heart, bested in the wracking strife Of this weary world, didst proclaim the hope beyond, The Brotherhood of Man, with all its deep import, And the universal Fatherhood of God. Page Thirteen SOME FUGITIVE VERSE "^tvaba. 5tli? 5teva6a |OETS may sing of fairer climes, but they are not so fair to me; Pen odes to brighter, bluer skies — -can such there really be? Paint idyls of life on the ocean, of days by the sounding sea — Some graces you perchance may lack, still a charm you have for me — Nevada, my Nevada! They paint for us Italla's charm, where life seems all a dream; The enticement of gay capitals, where pleasured thousands teem; Of languorous ease In southern seas — all these I fairly deem True gauges of earth's happiness — yet, above all, do I esteem Nevada, my Nevada! They depict the green of Erin's isle, the music of Scotia's rills; Of blissful days in the solitudes of wild Canadian hills; The grandeur of the Swltzer Alps, where ev'ry emotion thrills; But thine own alchemy for me a sweeter draught distills — Nevada, my Nevada! A beauty hast thou, all thine own, as fair as fair can be; Thou'rt adorned with all the tints that color land and sea; Thine own forests, mounts and streams have charm enough for me. Let painters limn it as they will, poets rave in ecstacy — Nevada, my Nevada! SOME FUGITIVE VERSE P^ge Fourteen In Ipalbs tCnXvob AR away from the hum of the cities, Away from their misery and crime. Where Lust of Innocence makes foul sport. And youth ages ahead of its time; Where souls in sin and shame shrivel And Virtue is deemed a poor cloak, Where Ingratitude is judged a proud merit. And Success the one god e'er Invoked. 'Tis in marts busy, the streets sadly crowded. Of these Sodoms — 'tis there that today The sacrifice is e'er made of Innocence — Grim tribute to Mammon are they! And the souls they are warped, by Faith lacking. Their lives unto Ignorance decreed; And Vice unrebuked e'er boldly stalks. And a grace is Self-Love and low Greed. O God, of Thy grace grant the guerdon Of a peace sought in paths yet untried; In Thy hills, in Thy forests, by Thy streamlets. Let me here for a time now abide! My days I'd fain spend with the wood-folk, With Nature abloom at my feet. Where, because man's language be lacking, They know not Untruth or Deceit. Where the fawn learns to trust when it loves one. And the squirrel a friend true it would be; Where the birds gladly carol their greeting In their own happy, sweet minstrelsy; For 'tis here that I fain would He dreaming. In Nature would I my soul steep — And 'tis here, when at last comes the summons. I would .glad!y lie down — and to sleep! Page Fifteen SOME FUGITIVE VERSE d)e Stor? of the (Bulls A Tale of Early Mormon History WAS by the StatUB of the Gulls I stood. In the City of the Salted Sea, the while Musing o'er Its significance, and wond'rlng Just where the chronicle I might fairly read. When beside me stood a hoary man and eld, Who wistfully the monument regarded As 'twere in retrospection, and to my wish For the reasons that reared this oddly-toppfed shaft He volunteered the story to unfold. And did so in this wise — 'Twas in the spring that followed The coming of the '47 pioneers — - Disciples all of martyred Joseph Smith; And the patient settlers, with hope set high, Careful prepared the virgin soil, no toil sparing. For its virgin crop. Two thousand souls and more Were there, in log huts and rude adobes living Within the old fort's confines; and the winter Now passed had been one of keen privation; Provisions scant had but ill sufficed to keep Body and soul together; and sago roots And thistle-tops oft made the meager, shortened Daily fare. But the Almighty, tender alway Of His people, and merciful, had Imposed A winter milder far than here ever known. Else few had lived to see the grasses grow again. 'Twas as boy elate o'er spring's first promise Didst young and old alike see the verdant signs Of the coming needed harvest — the green spears Of oat and barley, and wheat and rye — and watch Their daily growth, the broad acres greening over, And in the blessings promised for the future Was stress of the past rapidly forgot. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Sixteen But all too soon, it seemed. For, as God tries Men's souls, and tests tJie stuff of wliich they're made, By imposing burdens that for the nonce Seem greater far than mortal strength can bear, So on these weary, worn wand'rers did He a blight Cast, and on their dreams. And here their courage Wilted with their trust. 'Twas on an afternoon In later May the scourge appeared which threatened All their hopes, and did the very existence Menace of the coloni&ts. As in old Egypt A plague of locusts did the land ravage In punishment of Pharaoh, so here A very cloud of crickets didst darkly cast A pall about the sun, and convert the day Into the gloom of night. And this horde, hunge-lng For the tender shoots of green carpeting the fields. Didst wither them in passing, as tho swept By blasting breath of furnace. But here God's mercy interposed; .And lo! almost as soon as the plague had settled. From the north there came in countless numbers, Dark'ning the day as did the blight of crickets. In eager flight a-wing, a host of gulls. And still yet gulls — and gulls! And then they settled On these fields now ravaged by the insects. They checked the devastation before too great A damage had been wrought; and day by day This visit they repeated, until all danger At last had passed; nor least harm did they To the growing crops. And this first, most needed Harvest of the settlers, those hardy pioneers, Was thus insured against the day of need. Is't to be wondered, Then, that inspired by grateful remembrance They reared this shaft the event to commemorate. And a law didst pass, making it a crime To harass, or in any wise molest, the gull. Since it proved of this people the salvation In the hour of their greatest need? Page Seventeen SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ^l)ose beaming Tcyes of ^rown I. HE eyes of gray, the wise ones say, bespeak the happy mind. The calm content of a lite well spent, to charity Inclined; The Index of all virtues best, they mirror the heart humane That does the little loving acts, nor counts the cost nor gain. All this perchance may well be true, but here we write us down As pledging firm allegiance to the sparkling eyes of brown. n. The eyes of blue, of heaven's hue, in ev'ry land and age. In ev'ry clime, in prose and rime, alike both bard and sage Have witness borne to the charm of these sweet azure orbs so bright That rival the blue of heaven's vault, the shining stars at night. Nay, eyes of blue, tho all so true, do not at us thus frown For vowing loyal worship of those witching eyes of brown! m. So here's to the eyes of sparkling brown, the tinting to us most dear! So here's to the girl of the chestnut orbs, whose soul la pure and clear! There may be others just as good, in countryside and town. But here's a toast to the winsome lass with beaming eyes of brown! SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Eighteen X5xfO Careers I. NE man there was, who did the ways of peace prefer, And for the plaudits of the crowd cared nought; No laurel wreath for him was given e'er or sought, Nor did the pageantry of fame response e'er In him stir. His life was wholly spent in doing gentle deeds and kind. Helping his fellow-man, succoring the distressed; And when his last call came, and laid he was to rest. Remembered was he for a time — then passed he out of mind. n. Another man there was, soul-stirred to ambitious heights; Ingrained with self esteem, denied all traits humane; Giving all to self-advancement, devoted to that fane Wherein is shrined the soul which self-love early blights. Of men's meed of worldly glory stood he richly well possest; His voice in councils of the state potent for v.eal or woe. His ev'ry act applauded, when his summons came to go His name was writ in History and men did term him blest. Page Nineteen SOME FUGITIVE VERSE i^^ Z3l)ft 5^eluf of HLcY^en TO HON. GCORGE S. NIXON UNITED STATES SENATOR FROM NEVADA HILIP II Of Spain, prompted by a momentary spirit of conciliation, appointed Requesens Governor-General of the revolted Netherlands, to succeed the infamous Duke of Alva. Requesens assumed his duties Novem- ber 17, 1573, and arranged a conference with the Dutch patriots with a view of securing peace, but nothing could be agreed upon. Then the war was prosecuted more vigorously than ever. One of the famous incidents of this memorable struggle was the defense and relief of Leyden. The place was commanded by Jean Vanderdoes, known to literature as poet by the name of Dousa. He heroically refused all terms of surrender offered by the Spanish besiegers. At last, when the town was reduced to the last extremities of famine and disease, it was relieved by a stratagem of William of Orange, who had the dikes cut and flooded the country, drowning the Spanish camp. The same flood that brought disaster to the Spaniards carried on Its tide the relief ships with supplies for th3 stricken town. This happened October 3, 1574, and since then the date has been annually observed as a holiday in Leyden. 5 O long as men shall tell in story The right bold deeds they would extol. And add unto fair Fame's long roll The names of those decreed to glory. So long shall live In prose and rime The tale of how, besieged late. Did Leyden town escape the fate Its neighbors shared in that hard time. The old Dutch town, at war with Spain, By Spanish troops hemmed close about- So tight that, neither In nor out, Could one pass city's walls again. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE P»ge Tiventy Long months the burghers heard war's din. And hunger stall-ed at last its streets; Nor trained levies, nor val'rous fleets, Could aid those compassed there within. No longer living four-footed thing — Nor bird nor fowl — no longer found Were they in this quaint old Dutch town- Nor needed food could money bring. And women saw their babes at breast Full starved at last, in arms they died. Their infant need no more supplied. And mothers deemed them at last blest. Both Famine and Disease didst raise Their loathsome hydra heads; and since Men died so fast from pestilence Graveless they lay perforce for days. Men fought like dogs, day after day. For offal as 'twere Lucullan feast, Nor deemed themselves dishonored least When this was found the only way. Men, fallen ill, lay where they fell Nor could they hope succor to find; Since mercy shown would be unlcind When men glad welcomed the death knell. The bold commander, Dousa named, (His fame shall live as long as time. So long as men sing deeds in rime) When brave men begged him, unashamed. To give the Spaniards up the town, Since Valdez had them fair terms made, 'Twas then that Dousa unafraid, Didst answer, his resolve new found: "This left arm take, if need there he, If 'twould one's hunger satisfy And save some soul that else would die — The right is sworn to Liberty!" Page Tivenfy-one SOME FUGITIVE VERSE And now the burghers, newly nerved, With fierce resolve their oaths renewed They would not by Spain be subdued By all the armies that Spain served. But yet their state became more grave, And iron wills would fain relax And shift a burden that would tax The hardiest, however brave. Yet all the time relief was planned Could yet beleagured for a space Maintain inviolate the place And keep up watch, the walls well manned. At last and he of Orange* gave His orders^ — and the terms were blunt — The dikes along the seiashore's front For miles be cut, till the waters lave The very city's front — and then The Spaniards would the siege quick raise. Nor linger longer than the day's Chance gave them to embark thedr men. And this was not enough — as soon As dikes were cut a hurricane Swept waters twenty miles a-maln From Zuyder Zee to Berg-op-Zoon. Ill recked that day the Spanish folk. For of all Valdez' encamped corps Were saved not more tnan twenty-score. And Leyden freed from foreign yoke. And, too, the floods that wrought dismay To Spanish arms, didst relief bring To famine-curst, who, welcoming The ships that harbored there that day. In plenty found supplies and then Didst for all time decree that date** Shouldst be by Leyden celebrate To instil its truths in hearts of men. *William the Silent ♦♦October 3d, 1574 SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Tiventy-t'wo "I^A Serenade O thee, O love, in thy casement high. Comes a troubadour a-singing. Who craves from thee one tender word. To him bright hope a-bringing; The star-shine of the heaven's vault Matches not thy love-lit eyes — O grant to me of thy treasure, love, The benison that I prize. II. The moonbeams play in elfin glee O'er hill and dale this night; The oriole calls from arbored nest To its mate now hid from sight; No rival thine the moonbeams bright To the witchery of those eyes; No voice so sweet as thine, my dear. Greets love in glad surprise. III. One word from thee, and now good rest. Thy minstrel no more may sing; One glance of thine, no sweeter grace The new-born day can bring; May remembrance hold him doubly dear As thy suppliant goes from sight; Sweet dreams to thee, thru all the hours- Good night, my sweet, good night. Page Tream of t^e '3Futurft "Dime TO HON. FRANK F. OSTER S when one dreams I saw a Vision — It spanned the ruture vast — A cycle before me lay unrolled, swept back into the Past. And in this Vision another world panoramied before me lay; And its import I could clear discern before it passed away. I saw pictured a Race Uplifted, thru experience its lesson taught; With the Utopia at last full realized, by humanity long sought. Where statecraft, divorced from selfish aim, strove for a people's good. And polity firmly based on Right — the Right truly understood. Men warred no longer like snarling dogs, nor sought by savage force Their quarrel to settle with levies armed — the purblind fool's recourse. Instead they chose the wiser way — took counsel of a people's weal — And did their differences arbitrate, and from this took no appeal. And while men spoke in various tongues, no boundary lines of state Divided them into nations, their interests separate. And Justice was not bartered, and Equity was not on sale. And souls were not made sacrifice because men made trial and fail; And Law did check Wealth's arrogance, and a limit set its greed. And due provision a common treasury made for a people's need. And Poverty was a thing uncountenanced, since into the common hoard A tax proper was paid on Profit, 'gainst time of need due stored. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Thirty-four Where Misfortune was not judged a crime, wtere Merit won its own, And Error was forgiven when by repentance it did atone. Where Toil toolv share of Profit, an equal part with Wealth, And men took their own right openly where now they talte by stealth; And Labor's toil was portioned fair, no more for Greed the prize — The Greed that takes the greater share and a living wage denies. Where Innocence and Beauty were no more a prize for Lust, And Purity found protection where it had given its trust. Where Marriage was not a sordid trade, the children born of hate. And woman bitter cursed the bond and constant railed her fate; But Woman held an ^qual place in Life's affairs with Man — His partner equal in all things, as preordained the plan. . . . ^bc Mtodcrit !5ttal6 jWAS as the shades of evening fell That Mabel and I went walking; She listened with head demurely bent Whilst I did all the talking. I enthused of love in a cottage small. Pictured all with a lover's glow; "But I'm from Missouri, love," quoth she, " 'Tis me you'll have to show." Page Thirty-five SOME FUGITIVE VERSE 3 TLovc you TO ALICE S . LOVE you!" Tho all else forgotten be, Tho all our lives apart by Fate's decree, I hear thee yet — ne'er to fade from memory- "I love you!" "I love you!" So your lips did softly vow; Would God but grant its due fulfillment now, Then would I deem this paradise enow — "I love you!" "I love you!" Time has little changed thy heart. And though Life's current has drifted us apart, I hear still the pledge thou didst then impart — "I love you!" "I love you!" How it haunts the memory; True today as when whispered first to me; And when comes the end may my last thought then be- "I love you!" SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Thirty-six yti^ dr&tb CARE not for the creeds of faith Wrought out by churches as the plan By which salvation is attained — 'Tis all the handiwork of man. I'll not with dogma fret my soul. Nor vain embitter this one life; The hidden mysteries of cult At best provoke a bootless strife. If, as the Savior said, 'tis works That count the greatest in the scale, Then by my works will I a creed Live that men cannot assail. The Golden Rule's my decalogue; It's wide and broad enough for all; And if its precept I observe I can serene await the call. This and Jesus' last command Our neighbor as ourselves to love — These be my creed, my code of faith, These be my gauge of rewai-xi above. Page Thirty-seven SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ^al) '3loneY-^'i\cgrel HERE'S many a heart goes sorrowing In that Land known as Regret; There's many a soul grief borrowing, With remembrance sore beset; There's many a wish for the mlght-hare-been When the wish is all too late; And we sigh for things long passed away, Repining at our fate. We hark us back to the years of youth When our dreams were colored the rose, And our future we try to gild, forsooth. As the life stream onward flows. But our dreams do not color as they did — All our memories sadly set In that country of blighted, empty dreams. In that Land of Fond Regret. The skein of life is a tangled one, His destiny none may know; The Fates that ravel and cut the skein Their purpose never show. Yet may we so decide our lives That, if we cannot forget, We waste it not in repinings vain In that Land of Pond Regret. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Forty-four Signs of Sfrlitg rj^SflHEY ti IHEY talk of signs of spring and say The unfailing one to see hen the buds begin to sprout On shrub and bush and tree. But surer to me than any of these — And one's that sure as fate — Is when the flies begin to buzz And settle on your pate. Another sign unfailing, too, One you can swear is true; That harks us back to boynood days- A sign we well then knew! — Is that tired feeling that comes on And irks our very soul. And prompts us to a-fishing go With bait-can, line and pole. ^ yioobs % j WILD-ROSE, nodding by the roadside. And drowsing in Its lazy day-dreams, Laughing whispered its nearest neighbor, "So happy now this whole world seems!" The sun beclouded, the raindrops falling. The roses sorrowed that such things be; And then, unhappy, murmured to each other, "How dreary now this world's to me!" Page Forty-fme SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Supposing UPPOSE tbe money you late did lose Over faro's cheerful layout You had right now down In your jeans. Your debts to help you pay out? Suppose the money you loaned that friend You had where you could get It — That currency now would pay some bills. Or would you go and bet It? Suppose the girl you thought so sweet Hadn't married that other duffer, And all those children now w«re yours. Would not your lot be rougher? Suppose those kids were yours to clothe As well to educate — Would not your kick be harder then Against the pricks of Fate? 'Tis human-like to wish for things We know we cannot get; We paw the earth o'er past regrets And stew and fume and fret; But if our wishes we had them all. Our keen desires to leaven, Not content, we'd want the pearly gates And all the crowns In heaven. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Forty-six Obat 016 Oaken !&ucKct TO CHAS. L, SLAVfN. ESQ HOSE dear old scenes of childhood, how fondly we recall Them to our mem'ry nowadays — we knew them one and all — The spring-house old, that hid itself in the shade down by the brook; The old road worming 'round the hill, where, hidden in many a nook, The mink and possum played bo-peep, whilst the squirrels in the tree Nibbled their acorns blithely, and made goo-goo eyes at me. Oh, those scenes of childhood, they wove 'round me a spell! But ever my longest mem'ry clings to that bucket in the well. Oh, those scenes of childhood! The stars would be shining late When I rose in the early morning, in the barn to keep a date With horses and live stock sundry, awake for their morning meal, Who had to breakfast long before I'd start the milking deal. But all this came to me easy; where I weakly lost my nerve Was in getting up the water that these cattle I might serve. It came up bucket at a time — it wove 'round me a spell! I can see it in my mind's ey« now — that blamed bucket in the well! And when the washday would come 'round my mother 'd blandly say "I think, dear Willie, you would better stay from school today; In the kitchen you can help us some, bring the water we require. Put all the clothes out on the line, and withal keep up the fire!" Ah, those scenes of early childhood! — my mother I hear yet — And those days of drawing water I can never quite forget. Lost to mem'ry dear are some things, but just here let me tell I'll never forget that bucket — that blamed bucket in the well! Page Forty-seven SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ^Isiu6ge6 E'S a gruff old cuss," the neighbors said, "And he never does anyone good; He's tight as a wad in a cholte-bore gun" — Thus he in their graces stood. But when Brown died, leaving wife and kids. And broke, tho he did his best, The gruff one footed the subscription list And gave more than all the rest. "He's a mean old brute," so some of them said; "No kind word does ever he give; He's grumpy and grouchy and out of sorts — He's just too mean to live!" But the kids they loved him, they best knew why. Dogs would follow him half a mile — For to one he oft bore some trifling gift. To the other gave pat and a smile. Too oft we misjudge our fellow-man, And a light word travels fast. And we seldom see the harm we've done Till the damage long is past; 'Tls an ill-kept tongue that slanders one And one mean tempered beside. With a gruff way oft goes a heart of gold Disguised in a cloak of pride. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Forty-eight Bbe TKlss >SOe. Clever Hab E'VE kissed the maid with the languorous eyes. And the one whose orbs didn't pair; Likev.ise the girls with the fluffy curls And the ones with the golden hair; The game we have impartially played With good girls and with bad — But the sweetest kiss of all our dreams Was the kiss we never had. The honeyed lips of the French dem'selle, Senoritas of Spain's fair clime; Dutch frauleins, 'midst old Holland's dikes — All these came in their time. As well the tall girls, forsooth the short, Maidens merry and maids sad — But the only kiss we've really missed Is the one we never had. Page Forty-nine SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ^oob-'^'id.. 016 Vcor OOD-BYE, Old Year, we're glad you're going. You've surely lingered long enough — You've brought some blessings in your train As well as some things rather rough. 'Twas but a brief twelve months ago We greeted you with hopeful mind^ — Just as we did that year before, Only some broken hopes to find. The girl we loved we since have lost; The stocks we bought have sadly slumped; The man that owed us a bankrupt died; In ev'ry venture we've been badly bumped. And so it goes, year follows year, And each New Year is just the same; We're down and up — but mostly down — And still we play the same old game. But still. New Year, we welcome you — Fortune might yet decree a change; For if our luck wouldi get much worse It would indeed be passing strange. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Fifty 3'm on tbe "^i^atcr Wason !Jtow ^5|IVB me a seltzer, barkeep, and giv« it to me straight; The stuff of late you've handed out doesn't quite suit my estate; The morning after Is all too tough — ^and here you hear me vow, While I am not a-driviu', I'm on the water wagon now. The stuff looks good to me at times, I feel it tempting strong; The souse I get Is lasting, too — but for me it lasts too long. The stuff is good for some things — for snake bites, I'll allow; But I've quit the funnel-gang, dear Bill, I'm on the wagon now. So give me a seltzer, barkeep, also a mild cigar; I know the drink I'm taking causes you quite a jar; But I've reformed, dear barkeep, again just hear my vow — While I am not a-drivin", I'm on the water wagon now. Page Fifty-one SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ^lecompcnse TRIUMPH we award to the conqueror, But who pays for the blood that is shed? A monument we erect to the victor. Who a cenotaph rears to the dead? 'Tis the hero bold of a hundred fights We deck with the trappings of state; But who keeps toll of the thousands slain. Consigned to an unmourned fate? The grasping and greed of him who enslaves His fellows for a mere pauper's dole, Who employment affords for a thousand men, His emprise we right proudly extol. But little we reck of the soul-starved homes, Penuried toilers whose lives are blight; Who cares for the souls that are warped by want — For the ones who are lost in the fight? The losers in life, who keeps their long score — • The millions immured in the muck? Poor sacrifice offered the stern god Success — Immersed in the world's sordid ruck. Does Destiny e'er a reward plan for these Denied their deserts here below? In the scale is the balance adjusted above. In that bourne we would at last know? SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Fifiy-ttvo ^wo Offerings (IITH mourners was thronged the stately fane, all garbed In sober state, Long lines cf carriages at the curb, with ushers at the gate; The Angel of Death had singled its own — a rich man's only son — And Fashion decreed its tribute here, and of all that throng not one But laid a wreath upon the bier, of flowers rich and rare. And these were to the churchyard borne, and on the grave placed there. Another bier was there the selfsame day, 'twas on a quiet street. In a little church hid midst ivy green, by a garden prim and neat; No Fashion's throng was gathered here — only the newsboy's chums; The only tribute they could bring was the fashion of the slums; But on the coflRn one ofE'ring lay — a rosebud pure and white — And on the lowly grave It watched alike both day and night. . . . And the Angel of Mercy passing, lu sympathy shed a tear. But the tribute it accepted was the one from the poor child's bier! Page Fifty-three SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Oftlmlsm I. HE little things of our daily lives Aye cause our greatest care; They sap our strength and our courage, too, And our grit to do and dare. We lose our hold on the greater things When in trifles our souls we steep — We fail to note the star o'erhead For the pebble at our feet. II. 'Tis courage that counts for most in man — 'Tis his virtue most sublime— The courage to smile when things look blue. The faith to abide our time. What if today no sun there shines And the sky be overcast? Tomorrow's sun will be brighter still, The clouds they cannot last. SOME FUGITIVE VERSE Page Fifty-f oar ^l)e 'Arizona Orange HOU Arizona orange! Premier of thy kind! We pay a grateful tribute to thy worth! Rivals have you a hundred, of peers not one; And Nature In thee distills a sweeter draught Than e'er man quaffed from brimming goblet O'errunning with the purple nectar of the grape. Or the gods e'er supped in Hymettian revel. Many and far distant are the lands Wherein they seek thy charm to duplicate! Beneath the frown of smoke-encrowned Vesuvius In sunny Italy; along the shores of Sicily, Where Aeneas beached his bark; in California, Where thy fragrant blossoms sweetly perfume A thousand ocean breezes; in Mexico, From a score of other lands and climes Come thy golden rivals. But not thy peer! Thou, the fairest, richest product of this land, Art queen of all thy kind — the very culmination Of Nature's alchemy; and these others Are but the imitations which most sincerely Do flatter thee. Thrice hail! to thee we drink, Thou glorious creation of the gods! Page Fifty-five SOME FUGITIVE VERSE "Progression I. LL spells but change — the rose that falls To earth, disjoined by vagrant breeze. Obeys the law Nature decrees — What if its charm the change despoils? It fruited, and thus served its aim; For this died, as for this it came. Ever renewed, Lite gives Death's tolls; So thus the rose is born again To gladden the sad hearts of men. II. And thus with Man. Our lives we live, And run the course we deem ordained. In dying, do we lose all gained. Cancelled those aims for which we strive? Nay, our life here is but a part Of the destined plan — but the start In the scheme eternal; as we give Our best or worst to this life's sum So are we judged the life to come. SOME FUGITIVE VEJiSE Page Fifty-six W\)zn. TKnlgbts Vl^erc :^ol6 E read us much of those bonnie days When knights were aye so bold; And pranced on steeds caparisoned In harness decked with gold. They hied them for adventures rare With giants and ogres old — And didst rescue ye ladyes faire From some deep donjon hold. Attired were they in Steel Trust's best. With gorget and helm and glaive; With shoes as sharp as warship's prow — And so were Fashion's slave. What matter that it three men took To dismount knight from his steed, And that a derrick was near at hand To answer in the need? And when a band of doughty knights Came charging might and main, It bore a likeness much, we wot, To a modern-day freight train. O those were merry days, we vow, With knights at tourney's joust, When they prodded each other full of holes Because they felt they must. But I don't know — I'd lief as soon Be up and around today As be a dead hero all these years And in Westminster lay; We like to read of the Vere de Veres. Their valor and all that; Yet rather we'd be living now In a cozy modern flat. Page Fifiy-seUn SOME FUGITIVE VERSE ~3b