Oklahoma Sunshine Part 13

Feelin' Fine.

Roas'in' eahs dar on de stalk,-- Millons 'tween de rows; Eb'ry t'ing a-makin' talk Gin de crop ob woes; Hebben come en settles down On de millon vine; Dis heah dahkey's shuah in town Feelin' mos'ly fine!

The Little Feet.

Little feet that weary so Down the dusty roads, Pebbled are the paths you go With your heavy loads,-- When the restless hours are o'er And you cease to weep, Little limbs shall ache no more In the arms of sleep.

Little feet that weary so On their journey long, You shall lose the hurts you know In the smiles of song!

All the lullabies of light, All the smiles of play, Romp across the darks of night Into brighest day.

Little feet that weary so!

Come and let me take All the heart-aches of your woe For your baby's sake!

Cuddle on my lap, and flee From the world's distress; Let us run away and be Where the fairies bless!

Caught on the Fly.

The fellow that "soldiers" too much in the hay-field generally soldiers too little in the battle-field of life.

The smile is a lightning-express train that carries you fast and far, while the frown is only a wheel-barrow that you have to push along.

In the battle of life, nothing is gained by deserting your guns to the enemy. Stand by them till the ammunition is gone, whether they are popguns or flint-locks.

If you ever feel inclined to blame a man for making mistakes, just look in the gla.s.s and behold the manner of man he is.

The Sunday School is undoubtedly a good place for a boy, but as a corrective measure it cannot be compared to an apple tree limb and a handy wood-shed.

The folks who sit on the back-steps and worry about the future never catch any smiles from the present as she pa.s.ses the front gate.

Love's Dream.

I.

Love gave me a Dream in the years that have fled From the glorified joys of her beautiful home, And over the world of the living and dead It has followed forever wherever I roam; And over the mountains and through the black night It has guided my feet with its wonderful light.

II.

It has joyed at the triumphs that came with renown, And its rapture surpa.s.sed what the mult.i.tudes knew; It has grieved at the failure that lost me the crown, With a faithful devotion unknown to but few; Through Despair's heavy shadow and Hope's holy gleam, How my lips still were kissed by the lips of the Dream!

III.

It has wept with my sorrow,--the sorrow that fell Where the heart battled hard with the merciless foe; It has laughed with my laughter when fortune was well And the blossoms of triumph were blooming below; And far through the black and the bright of each year It has followed my feet till it followed me here.

IV.

O, the Dream that has lived through the years of the lost, That with constancy shares all the paths I have trod, Never leave me alone till the harbor is crossed And I stand in the power and the presence of G.o.d; And on through the ages no glory shall seem Half so sweet as the love of my Dream,--of my Dream!

The Frying Pan.

"With all your talk about necessary house-hold implements," said Sooner Dave, "none of 'em is in it with the frying pan,--just the common, ordinary, every-day frying pan, that you chuck under your buck-board or tie to your saddle-horn. These parlor ornaments, side-boards, new-fangled stoves, potato-mashers, coffee-strainers and all the everlasting tribe of culinary jim-cracks have to turn out of the trail for the frying pan and give it the right of way.

"With the frying pan for his companion, the civilized idiot is at home any where,--prairie or woods, creek bank or deer-lick or prairie-chicken trysting place. With a frying pan and some bacon fat, home is never far away, and a full meal is so near that heaven comes close to the hungry man. It has fought more battles, made more forced marches and won more victories than Napoleon. It has surveyed lands, bunched cattle and soonered claims. It has done all the pioneering for the frontiers-man.

In this one divine utensil, the wanderer fries his meat, bakes his flap-jacks and brews his coffee; and as they all come steaming from its exalted circ.u.mference of life-sustaining food, what chafing-dish or modern steam-cooker was ever waited on by such a willing appet.i.te?

"When I die," continued Sooner Dave, "I want a frying pan chiseled on my tomb-stone; for it has been the sole companion of the truest happiness I have known in this world. And if over in the next world there is a chance to choose one's crown after the style and finish the wearer may desire, I am going to take my faithful old frying pan along and wear it for a few thousand years just to show the angels how much a man can appreciate good things!"

The Quest.

What matters bog or bramble of delay,-- The mountain slope or sh.o.r.e of ocean reeds?

Pursue thy goal! Thy feet shall find the way Unerringly where thy One Vision leads!

To the World!

I.