Oklahoma Sunshine Part 49

I think that life will be worth while When force and fraud no more Confederate with smirk and smile To grab the people's store; Get in the game! The laws will cease To help the robbers steal, And all the land will live in peace When Teddy squares the deal!

A Date with Joy.

When Sorrow stops and hails you, Your pleasures to destroy, Just tell him, "Something ails you!

I've got a date with Joy!"

"The roads are good for travel,-- You'd better go away; Just hit the flying gravel, For Joy is here today!"

The G.o.ds and the Man-Child.

I.

The G.o.ds of Life to the Man-Child crept They whispered low as the Man-Child slept,-- The G.o.d of Love and the G.o.d of Hate, And the G.o.d of the Glories Three; And smiles and frowns wove the Man-Child's fate In a crown that was sad to see!

II.

"Come wors.h.i.+p me!" said the G.o.d of Love, "And life shall equal the realms above; My cheeks are ruddy and white in turn,-- And my lips are as red as wine, And Grief ne'er comes where the pleasures burn And the joys that are slaves of mine!"

III.

"Come wors.h.i.+p me!" said the G.o.d of Hate; "Revenge is sweetest of faith and fate!

To conquer foes that revile and leer With the scorn of the fiends of h.e.l.l, Is work that brings to the soul good cheer And is worthy of doing well!"

IV.

"There is no wors.h.i.+p like that of me!"

Cried long the G.o.d of the Glories Three; "I have no love and I have no hate, But the Power and Wealth and Fame; The crowns I hold are the crowns of state And of gold and the world's acclaim!"

V.

The Man-Child woke from the world old dream, And launched his boat on the tossing stream; A G.o.d he sought that was none of these, But a greater and sweeter far, And question made of the rain and breeze, And the blossom and blazing star!

VI.

He heard faint calls from the far-off days; He saw faint steps in the lonely ways; He caught faint glimpses by wayside path, As he threaded the shadows dim, And through the years with their peace and wrath In the quest of the soul for Him!

Caught on the Fly.

Love heals the wound that truth only irritates.

The world offers no standing-room for the lazy man.

Palpitation of the tongue is the most chronic disease known to the race of women.

Sooner Sayings.

The swift horse plants the first stake.

It is well enough to be early, but too early is worse than too late.

A quarter section isn't big enough for a potato patch when two men claim it.

April 22, 1889-1905.

It is sixteen years since the race for homes,--it is sixteen years today Since we on that April morning lined up for the mighty race; And after the strenuous toiling and the griefs that have gone away, The fields are glad with their beauty and the land is a dream of grace.

We raced for homes in the desert ways, and we won them fair and square; We built so well as the swift years fled that life was a laughing thing; And the joys that come as the crowns of life, the joys that are sweet and fair, Build close their nests by the brooding eaves where the rose-vines climb and cling.

We knew when we entered the strange, new land there were labors of might to do; We knew that Want with his deadly sword stood guard at the desert gate, But far to the swarded prairies and valleys that no one knew, We spurred our steeds on the holy quest for the stars of a mighty state!

The Drouth came out of the sere south-west and the corn died low in a day; The copper sun looked out of a sky that burned with a molten fire; While Hope sank deep in the bravest heart, and over the barren way The dumb feet trailed in the steps of Want and dead was the old desire.

And Famine came with her sunken eyes from the dust of the parching fields And tapped the door with her bony hands and her fingers gaunt and thin; Ah, Hearts grow faint at the hunger-cry and the arm of the master yields When all the world is a heap of dust that its creatures wriggle in!

But Plenty heard of our want and woe, and gave with a lavish hand, And Love loaned ever her cruise of oil that never of fullness fails; The G.o.d of the rains heard all our cries and He watered the thirsty land And sent us a patch of turnips instead of a flock of quails!

O, years of the strife and struggle! O, years of the wrath and wrong!

The hands of toil smote the sleeping fields and they woke with the blooms of light; The homes we wrought are the homes of peace, where life is a tender song, And the pleasures romp through the laughing days and the dreams go down the night!

Between the seas of the big, round world there never was such a land!

A land that walks in the paths of peace where the stars in their plenty s.h.i.+ne; And the fields are fair with the harvests there and the gifts of the toiler's hand, And the fruit hangs red in the orchard trees and the grapes on the purple vine!

It is sixteen years since we ran the race, it is sixteen mighty years, And the days have come and gone again, with the gifts that the strong men claim; And after the days of the struggle, the grief and toil and tears, The wilderness smiles in its beauty 'neath the stars of a wondrous fame.