Oklahoma Sunshine Part 46

And Song is her sister That makes for the feet All the carpets of roses And blossoms so sweet!

With hands linked together They wander the ways!

How joyous their kisses For grief-laden days!

Sooner Sayings.

The race is not to the swift but to the fellow who starts the night before.

Money not only makes the mare go, but it saves you from standing in line at the land-office.

A journey made before the proclamation is issued is a valuable experience and saves much perjury afterwards.

Sooner Sayings.

We'll all go to the Promised Land at the time of the big opening; and G.o.d grant that we get a filing on a fine claim and no contest.

There is no use in trying to sooner past St. Peter. Have your booth certificate properly signed and ready for inspection or he won't put your name down on the books.

Don't expect to hold down a claim in the New Jerusalem unless you live on it. This thing of using two poles and a hole in the ground for a homestead residence, won't work when you make your final proof.

Caught on the Fly.

Clouds are found where the most flowers bloom: only the desert is a land of clear skies.

War may be a gentleman's game, but the Devil usually wins the most stakes before it breaks up.

All the griefs and tears of the world would cease if Love could only have her way for a very little while.

All Fool's Day.

G.o.d bless the man who hallowed April First!

(Or was it, after all, some saintly woman?) May countless barrels of honors br.i.m.m.i.n.g burst Across the realms he rules so super-human!

A wondrous person he in every part With true affection filling all his heart!

For 'tis but proper that one holy day From all the hundreds should be consecrated, While Nature triumphs over Arts' display And Life's dear memories are celebrated: This day is ours! Behold, no master rules!

We all are equals in the Realm of Fools!

The Cap and Bells to active work awake, All dressed in motley garbs for their appearing, With no disguises for the parts we take, Forgetful of the maskings so endearing; And we, the fools before we posed as men, In common claim our heritage again!

E'en every dog, they tell us, has his day, On which fond fortune comes and cheers and blesses; And as the years roll on their endless way, This one and that go by with soft caresses,-- How proper, then, that one day from the throng Should unto Us and all the Fools belong!

There are no wise men to contest our claim,-- This day is ours,--is ours without disputing!

Who boasts his wisdom bows his head in shame And knows his folly ere it goes to fruiting; The truth we speak! Today we proudly know it, And in the open to each other show it!

We meet as equals once for all the year!

The wise and foolish shout with kindred laughter; No greater and no smaller fools appear, And Folly flouts the dullard calling after!

No tryant reigns! No h.o.a.ry falsehood waves Imperial scepters over willing slaves!

Then doff the fetters and discard the chains!

Today is ours and let us be rejoicing!

Forget the wise men and their soggy brains While we our native follies now are voicing!

We all are fools! Let all the Fools unmask!

One great inheritance is all we ask!

Some men throw a dollar in the contribution box and immediately figure compound interest on it at two per cent per month.

In the Orchards of Spring.

A cloud of white in the orchard And blossoms fair in the sun, When love comes by in the morning And sings till the day is done!

A cloud of white in the orchard!

O, branches hung with the bloom At touch of her fairy fingers And breath of her sweet perfume!

A cloud of white in the orchard And skies with their deeps of blue, And songs of the purple morning That come at the thoughts of you!

A cloud of white in the orchard, Where Love and her feet has run, Where you came by in the morning And stayed till the set of sun!

O, cloud of white in the orchard And days with the skies of blue!

And songs that were sweet with laughter And sang with the lips of you!

The white is there in the orchard, The blossoms break as of yore, But silent the song and the laughter For you will return no more!

Suns.h.i.+ne or Shadow.