Chapter I: Part 1
Transcriber's note:
Minor punctuation errors have been corrected without notice.
Printer's errors have been corrected, and the changes are
listed at the end of the book. All other inconsistencies are
as in the original. The author's spelling has been retained.
OKLAHOMA SUNSHINE.
by
FREEMAN E. MILLER,
Author of "Oklahoma and other Poems," "Songs from the South-West Country," etc.
Stillwater, Oklahoma. The Advance Printing Company. 1905.
Copyright, 1905, by Freeman E. Miller. All Rights Reserved.
_The Gospel of Sunshine is the one Supreme Evangel, the Religion of Love is Mankind's most Universal Creed. They hold in their divine Baptisms the Winning of the Heart to Happiness, the Wooing of the Soul to Heaven._
_The Author._
Beginning with June 9, 1904, there was a column of verse and prose published in "The Stillwater Advance" under the caption "Oklahoma Sunshine." These were written in the moments of a busy life, amid the crowding of sterner things, and many of them found a wide circulation in the fugitive publications of the day. So many persons have offered expressions of being pleased and helped by them that they are here presented in a more permanent form. The following comprise the year from June, 1904, to June, 1905.
CONTENTS.
_VERSES._
PAGE.
A Busy Family, 4
A Blazing Future, 185
A Contented Farmer, 19
A Date With Joy, 265
A Happy Farmer, 299
A Jolly Good Game, 18
A Little of Love, 6
All Fool's Day, 249
A Memory, 232
A Modern Love Story, 276
A New Year's Resolution, 174
A Prayer, 29
April 22, 1889-1905, 269
A Song of Green Valleys, 30
At Rest, 188
A True Hero, 181
At the End, 214
At the Turning of the Lane, 289
At the Twilight, 290
At Valentine's Day, 204
A Valentine, 207
A Welcome for Winter, 97
Away from the Winter, 222
Be Patient, 116
Be Strong to Dare, 69
Best of All, 39
Better Hide Out, 129
Better Hurry, 277
Brighter than the Dreams, 286
De Hant, 190
Doing Pretty Well, 62
Don't Fall out with Life, 220
Don't Frown, 8
Don't Grumble, 5
Don't Trade with Trouble, 227
Don't Worry or Fret, My Dearie, 40
Don't You Fret, 61
Don't You Grumble, 46
Dreaming, 17
Dreams, 1, 254
Evil Prophets, 173
Feelin' Fine, 71
Fields of May, 305
Finally, 167
Finis, 312
Fishing Time, 234
For the New Year, 166
Forgotten, 113
Give Us More, 113
Get in the Game, 15
God Give Us Change, 87
Good-bye, Dear Heart, 22
Good-bye to Trouble, 158
Good Morning,--Good Night, 216
Hands Around, My Honey, 38
He Voted "Graft", 182
Hear the Song, 106
Hope, 41
Howdy, Mister Summer, 287
If Love Abides, 277
If Santa Claus Don't Come, 162
In April Days, 260
In Prayer, 65
In Supplication, 57
In the Lap of Spring, 300
In the Light, 120
In the Orchards of Spring, 252
In the Shine, 138
In Yearning Mood, 114
Jist a-Wushin', 298
Jog Along, 9
Joy is Here, 184
June Time, 21
Just Be Patient, 223
Kansas Has her Dander up, 217
Keep Away from Trouble, 48
Keep Busy, 212
Keep in the Light, 229
Keep them Alive, 145
Life, 168
Life and Love, 228
Life's Way, 208
Loafing, 300
Look out for Trouble, 198
Love Brings the Song, 104
Love's Dream, 74
Minnows and Big Fish, 50
Mistah Cotton, 105
Mister Blue Bird, 239
Mister Cantaloupe, 13
Mister Ground Hog, 195
Move Along, 311
My Heritage, 284
My Philosophy, 2
Never Mind the Hills, 182
Never Worry, 142
Off the Reservation, 224
On Behalf of the Minority, 201
On the Road to Riches, 115
Our Joe's at Home Agin, 136
Playing the Game, 280
Pretty Good World, 83
Quit Grieving, 293
Rolling on to Glory, 219
Said, Governor Tom, 193
Say Good-bye to Sorrow, 241
See the Side-Show, 102
Shadow and Shine, 285
Signs of Winter, 144
Sing a Little, 172
Sing a Song of Sunshine, 128
Something Left, 184
So Santa Claus'll Come, 148
Stand Pat, 89
Still Going, 288
Still Onward, 312
Sunny Side Out, 233
Sunshine or Shadow, 253
Teddy's on a Hunting Trip, 255
Thanksgiving Hymn, 130
Thank the Lord for Work, 127
That New Year Resolution, 192
The Baby's Hand, 244
The Blossom Ways, 275
The Books, 310
The Bright Day, 81
The Call of the Fiddle, 163
The Call of the Master, 242
The Candidate, 21
The Charity Ball, 153
The Christmas Fiddles, 146
The Darky's Heaven, 49
The Days, 235
The Defeated, 102
The Glorious Fourth, 25
The Glory Train, 80
The Gods and the Man-Child, 266
The Good Times Song, 199
The Greatest Gift, 165
The Grip of the Prairies, 302
The Harvest Time, 11
The Journey, 306
The Legislative Pass, 186
The Lights of Home, 124
The Little Boy Land, 66
The Little Feet, 72
The Lord is Good to Me, 110
The Meadows of Morning, 304
The Meal Ticket Man, 134
The Negro's Warning, 37
The Rim of the Circle, 278
The Quest, 77, 285
The Quest for Joy, 93
There's No Use to Worry, 29
The Sage, 311
The Santa Claus Boy, 154
The Sunny Side, 212
The Sunshine Song, 122
The Sunshine Way, 140
The Third House, 170
The Valleys of Rest, 90
The Weather Man's Mistakes, 56
The Women and the Bill, 150
The World All Right, 86
Too Busy, 95
To One Departed, 42
To the Light, 118
To the Lonesome Fiddle, 160
To the Love Lands, 177
To the World, 78
Toss a Kiss to Care, 24
Trudge Along, 180
'Twill All Come Right, 157
Uncle Joe and Statehood, 209
Upward, 292
Wait Awhile, 213
We Sat and Talked of Other Days, 84
What Shall it Matter, Dear, 34
When Canderdates Git After Pa, 108
When Mr. Money Comes to Town, 70
When Pa Puts Up the Stove, 132
When Teddy Squares the Deal, 264
When the Bills Come Due, 26
When the Birds Come Back, 236
When the Campaign Liar Quits, 126
When the Crow's Feet Come, 96
When the Dollar Pounds the Door, 44
When the 'Phone Bell Rings, 36
When the Roas'in' Ears air Plenty, 58
When the Sad Time Ends, 308
When Trouble Came, 196
When Trouble Comes, My Honey, 116
Where Love Abides, 228
Willie's Easter, 272
With a Song, 189
Without Embarassment, 262
You Sang to me, Dear, 296
_PROSE_.
A Doubtful Voter, 112
A Fine Job, 180
A Happy Dream, 288
A Hard Winter Ahead, 152
A Hard World, 175
An Incurable, 215
Another Vintage, 112
A Popular Preacher, 215
A Quartette of Don'ts, 176
Ate Boys Himself, 32
A Troublesome Set, 5
Caught on the Fly, 3, 7, 16, 20, 25, 33, 35, 41, 48, 55,
63, 68, 71, 73, 81, 85, 94, 98, 107, 111, 125, 128, 129,
137, 142, 156, 158, 169, 179, 183, 188, 191, 194, 208,
211, 219, 226, 246, 248, 254, 263, 268, 272, 283, 295,
297, 303.
Duly Thankful, 131
Enough Heaven for Him, 47
He has Lived in Vain, 239
Hell and Heaven, 20
His Platform, 133
If we Were Wise, 168
In the Best Society, 69
In the Legislature, 200
It Died Young, 176
Its Principal Work, 207
Life's Eternities, 234
Little Sermons, 40, 51, 83, 104, 110, 119, 120, 121,
123, 143, 145, 153, 159, 175, 181, 187, 191, 195, 206,
213, 227, 233, 235, 246, 259, 261, 274, 281, 286, 287,
289, 295.
Mighty Lonesome, 128
Nice Doctrine, 138
Nobody Hurt, 199
No Encouragement, 301
No Room for Bankruptcy, 49
Not Afraid, 185
One Drawback, 144
Play Ball, 171
Plenty of Exercise, 52
Providence Takes Care of his Own, 113
Rainy Weather, 14
Remembered by Santa Claus, 172
Richly Deserved, 232
Small Bills, 211
Snake Bit, 309
Sooner Sayings, 247, 248, 258, 259, 268, 275, 277,
288, 293, 299, 309.
The Frying Pan, 76
The Ignorance of the Court, 92
The Real Article, 53
The Real Question, 139
The Same Old Gifts, 164
The Sooners, 88
The Spirit of Compromise, 38
The Kingbolt Philosopher, 4, 10, 12, 24, 28, 33, 37, 39,
45, 61, 64, 65, 68, 82, 86, 99.
Too Much Prosperity, 159
Voting Around, 103
Wanted a Bill or Two, 197
Wanted to Hide, 121
Well Prepared, 27
Where Bill Was, 138
"What Think Ye, Masters, of These Things?"
(A POEM READ ON OKLAHOMA DAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1904, AT THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE EXPOSITION.)
O, ye who frame the sovereign law,
And heal the hurts of ocean isles
Till hid are savage tooth and claw
And Peace above the battle smiles,--
If Justice reigns and Mercy clings,
What think ye, Masters, of these things?
The Father of the Waters greets
Imperial sisters proud and great,
And nation mighty nation meets
At festal boards of lordly state:
But one--one only,--maketh moan:
Denied the Star, she weeps alone!
The cycles fly on eagled wings:
A hundred years have run their quest
Since he who bought and sold with kings
An empire added to the West:
And all his regions rulers are
Save her alone who mourns the Star.
The wildness in a moment died;
A garden bloomed and fruited full
Across the plains and valleys wide
At touch of hands invincible;
But mute she stands where deserts were:
The banner holds no Star for her!
The race heaps high its conquered spoil;
The braggart heirs of all men do
Assemble where the Triumphs toil
In marshaled columns for review;
And she, the Starless, at your call
Brings trophies that surpass them all!
Are not her laurels rich and rare?
Her apt attainments great with grace?
You crown her here and everywhere
Save where she pleads for power and place;
The world amazed her praises rings:
What think ye, Masters, of these things?
She wonders wrought with wondrous hands:
Her cities crowd the teeming plains,
And church and school exalt the lands
With all of mankind's greater gains;--
The last of all the waste, she brings
The triumphs of her million kings!
A million white and black and red
Whose treble toils misunderstood
Build happy homes and fondly wed
The desert place with joyous good,
And at your feet, uncrowned, unblest
Kneel for the knighthood of their quest!
Thralled in her chains, this fairest one
Of all the realms that greatly found
Rich largess on the barrens dun
Pleads from her fetters, vassal-bound;
And still the Star before her swings:
What think ye, Masters, of these things?
Oklahoma Sunshine
Dreams.
I.
Day-dreams and play-dreams! From the rosy morn
Till the ashy eventide and the stars new-born,
Ever bringing life and heart aweary with their load
Promises of hope and cheer while tramping down the road.
II.
Night dreams and bright dreams! In the house of sleep
With their happy faces full and their gazes deep,
World on world so beautiful there they brightly bring,
Till the heart is happy in the songs they sing.
III.
Day-dreams and Night-dreams,--all the dreams you will,--
Beckon up the rocky slope and summon o'er the hill,--
Summon us to do and dare all the deeds of yore
Till the battle ceases, and we strive no more!
My Philosophy.
I've made up my mind
In spite of the cranks,
'Tis a pretty good world
And we ought to give thanks;
And whether it came
From the God or the grime,
The fellow that runs it
Don't lose any time.
I've made up my mind
In spite of the tears.
That the world clambers up
With the roll of the years;
And whether it gropes
Or is led on and on,
It will come by and by
To the meadows of dawn.
In spite of the sin
And the folly around,
'Tis a much better place
Than the fore-fathers found;
And in spite of the fools
And the devils that grieve
I'm sure in no hurry
To pull up and leave.
So shut up your mouth
And don't grumble nor croak;
Go put your poor head
And your poor heart in soak;
Lay all of your sorrows
And sins on the shelf,
For the world is all right
If you're all right yourself!
Caught on the Fly.
If the girl with a white muslin dress and a picture hat has any troubles in this world she has a wonderful skill in hiding her real feelings.
Somehow, those men who are all the time telling how well money talks, never get well enough acquainted with it to speak with authority.
"De worst objection to de wortersmillion in Oklahomy," said a Mississippi black man, "is de fact dat it gits ripe too late fer de wheat harvest an' too yarly fer de cotton-pickin."
The average man grieves more when he runs out of chewing tobacco and the nearest neighbor who uses the filthy weed is three miles away, than he does when the mortgage takes the farm. Upon what little things doth happiness depend!
A Busy Family.
Mam's at a function where you hold your breath;
Liz has got a feller, an' she's talkin' him to death;
Andy has the measles, Susie's nussin' Bill,
Pap is out fer office an' he's runnin' fit to kill;
Pont an' me are fishin', all the signs are right,
Fer the crick is up a-boomin' an' the big fish bite!
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"Ive heerd tell," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, "thet every dog has his day. But I'm jest as sartin thet he don't know he's a havin' of it when he has it.
"Now, thar was Bill Smith. Bill was a high-up chap, made money, had a rubber-tired buggy, four girls, and chawed terbacker thet cost a dollar a pound. But he never knowed he was a havin' of his day ontell he went busted on the Board of Trade. But now Bill knows it, and has knowed it ever sence he went busted."
Don't Grumble.
What's the use to grumble, what's the use to fret,
'Cause the cotton's weedy and the days go wet?
'Tis the Lord that sorts the weather and the sun and rain to you,
And you needn't kick and holler 'cause he don't explain to you!
When it rains, don't get to mopin!
There's more sunny skies than clouds,
And if sorrows drop in singly, why, the pleasures come in crowds;
Black day or bright day, don't you fume and fret,
When the cotton's weedy and the days go wet!
A Troublesome Set.
"Dese hyar white folks am a troublesome set," said a Guthrie coon. "We hab a great majority ob de city, but on 'lection day we nebber git ober half the city council an 'de school board, and four drinks apiece. We am a-talkin' of sendin' 'em back to Englan' whar dey belong ef dey don't do better!"
A Little of Love.
I.
With a little of Love, Dear, and something of Song,
There's a glorified courage that conquers each wrong,
And the years fly as swift as the bird on the wing
Through the snow days of winter and rose days of spring.
II.
With a little of Love, Dear, and something of Song,
There's no hour that is heavy, no day that is long;
And the soldier of hope scales the mountains that meet,
Till they lay all their trophies and gifts at his feet.
III.
With a little of Love, Dear, and something of Song,
All the mighty exalt, all the feeble are strong,
And the breast bravely bares to the breast of the foe,
And, forever full armored, gives blow for his blow!
IV.
Then a little of Love, Dear, and something of Song!
What shall matter the struggle with error and wrong?
For the lilies and roses of gladness shall bloom
Till we sleep the long slumber as dust in the tomb!
Caught on the Fly.
It's no use to try to trot in a race where you are out-classed. Better be a good weed-puller at so much per pull, than a member of the legislature without any pull at all.
If a woman's hair is smoothed up, her hat on straight and her belt all right behind, the other cares and responsibilities of this life sink at once and forever into insignificant nothingness.
This thing of "hitching your wagon to a star" may be all right for a steady occupation, but the fellow who plants garden truck in his back-yard nights and mornings will have more on the table at meal-times.
Don't Frown.
Don't frown!
In the world's market place,
For a scowl there's no price,
And a long, gloomy face
Never cuts any ice!
Look pleasant, look pleased,
Or as pleased as you can;--
With a smile can be seized
All the great things of man!
Don't frown!
Don't frown!
With a smile on your lips
You can reach to the end
Of the world's last eclipse
Or the heart of a friend;
And the things the gods throw
Over life's weary mile,
Are the gifts they bestow
In return for a smile.
Don't frown!
Don't frown!
As you walk down the way
Where the world scatters chaff,
Light your labors with play
And your griefs with a laugh!
And when it's all o'er
And you reach heaven's stile,
You will get through the door
If you carry a smile!
Don't frown!
Jog Along.
Jog along, my brother,
Jog along, I say;
There's no cozy corner
For one that wants to play;
Don't stop to whistle,--
Whistle good and strong,
But be careful that you always
Jog along.
Jog along, my brother,
Jog along, I say;
Keep yourself in motion,--
You needn't stop or stay;
Someone will hear you
And will help your song,
If you do your part and always
Jog along.
Jog along, my brother,
Jog along I say,
Doing God good service
Till the final day;
For He will crown you
After all the wrong,
With his choicest blessings, if you
Jog along.
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"There be some things," says Uncle Ezra Mudge, "that it is best to take on faith. I don't know for certain that the devil has split hoofs and a forked tail and carries a four-tined fork along with him in the hope of finding a hay-field handy; but rather than make a private appointment with him to find out, I am willing to take the word of the picture books on the subject."
Whatever weaknesses he may have, the man who is so thick-skinned that he can go on about his regular business and pay no attention to the little distractions of this life, has a great advantage in the world. The rhinoceros would not look well in a beauty show, but it can always sleep well, even if hundreds of mosquitoes are buzzing around hunting for a full meal.
Spring is that season of the year when the new plow-boy and the old plow-mule patiently learn again the world-wide difference between "haw" and "gee."
The Harvest Time.
I.
The harvest time is over! And across the fertile plain
Stand the winrows of the meadows and the stocks of golden grain;
And the aching limbs of labor take the rest of happy ease
From the scorching suns of noon-day in the shadows of the trees.
The harvest time is over! And the husbandman receives
For the days of hard endeavor all the wealth of garnered sheaves;'
And the land of hill and valley smiles exalt with joys untold
Heaping high above the stubbles in the piles of ripened gold!
Harvest time! Harvest time!
Hours of toil are told;
Hill and valley both rejoice
With their wealth of gold!
II.
The harvest time is over! After all the years of strife
There's a joy for every sorrow and a crown for every life;
And the songs of Heaven's angels on the straining soul arise
As the weary foot-steps falter on the walks of Paradise.
The harvest time is over! All the struggle has surcease!
After life, the stars above us! After battle, love and peace!
And the glories of achievement that atone for sin and strife
Are the sheaves of good we garner as we reap the fields of life!
Harvest time! harvest time!
Years of struggle gone,
Joy shall crown the soul with light
In eternal Dawn!
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"Fer accumulatin' much experience in a short while and in a rapid manner," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, "thar is nothin' under the sun beats a-goin' to law. With only a toler'ble fair case and a good lively lawyer on the other side, a man can git enough out of one single law-suit suitably appealed, to decently equip a whole neighborhood fer at least three generations."
Mister Cantaloupe.
Hello, Mister Canteloupe,
When did you arrive?
Glad to see you, and I hope
That you're all alive!
How-dy do and how-dy do!
Hope your folks are well,
And are coming after you
For to stay a spell!
Hello, Mister Cantaloupe!
Please excuse my smile,
But I'm just so glad, and hope
You will stay awhile;
Put 'er here and put 'er there!
If you've traveled far,
Come with me and take a chair
In the dining car!
Life is neither comedy nor tragedy, but sometimes it pushes up so close to both that it keeps a fellow on the dodge between smiles and tears.
Rainy Weather.
Our Mud Creek correspondent sends us the following items, having to do with the recent wet weather:
"Bill Hughes cut his wheat last week. He rigged up a header attachment to a row-boat, and nipped the heads off at the surface of the water.
"It rained so fast last Saturday night at Tad Wilson's that the water couldn't all run off the roof of his new house. The water stood four inches deep on top of the comb for over half an hour. Then Tad took an ax and sharpened the comb so it would split the drops better, and the water soon ran down.
"Jem Bilkins' incubator hatched last Wednesday during the heavy rain. Jem set only Plymouth Rock eggs; but, when they hatched, over half of his chickens were ducks. They were given web feet by an accommodating providence."
Get in the Game.
Get in the game of life, my boy,
Get in the mighty game;
There'll be something of care and somewhat of strife
And something of sin and shame!
But after the years and the toils they bring,
There'll be a time of joy,
If the heart stays sweet and the soul can sing,
So get in the game, by boy.
Got in the game of life, my boy,--
That is the game for all;
For the hazards are sweet and the days are rife
With the fortunes that rise and fall;
But after the losses the triumphs stand
Enemies can't destroy;
So get in the game with a full, clean hand,
So get in the game, by boy.
Get in the game of life, by boy!
That is the game men play,
And whether it's gladness or whether it's strife,
It lasts to the One Great Day;
The crowns and the stars and the laughs of love
Beckon with hands of joy,
Till the soul grows vast in the home above,--
So get in the game, my boy!
Caught on the Fly.
My son, this world has so much work to do that it has not even room for a lazy man to sit down and rest. The hen that doesn't lay, the horse that balks, and the cow that refuses to give down her milk, don't get up to the feed-rack very long.
The Athletic Clubs are always inventing some new way of giving a big strapping cub an adequate form of exercise, but the average farmer finds more kinds of it than he wants when the crab grass gets busy.
It isn't every dude that wears patent leathers and parts his hair in the middle, who hasn't sense enough to flag the bread-wagon when it comes tearing down the pike.
Dreaming.
Let those who prefer it
Keep hatching their schemes,
But all through life's summer
I'll cherish my dreams!
Go on with your struggles,
Your worries and wrongs;
I'll camp with the lillies
And list to their songs.
I'll dream with the daisies
That sweeten the sod;
I'll dream with the roses
That whisper of God;
I'll dream with the wild birds
That sing of the right,
And out of the shadows
Dream garlands of light.
I'll dream through the darkness
Of sorrow and strife,
Till love brings the morning
And laurels the life;
And over the meadows
My happy feet roam,
Still dreaming, still dreaming,
Till Love takes me home!
A Jolly Good Game.
I.
You may talk as you please about Life's necromancy;--
'Tis a journey of smiles or of tears as you fancy--
For I always have found,--and I'm happy to say it,--
'Tis a jolly good game if one knows how to play it!
II.
The Dealer sits yonder,--the hands that he serves us--
The brains and the beauty and courage that nerves us,--
And strength for the struggle; and then he gives warning,
To play to the ceiling till dawn of the morning!
III.
And mighty the stakes that he sets us to try for!
Fame, Fortune and Honor, and Love, that men die for!
The Sword, or the Crown, or the Star, or the Garter,
And all the high winnings men bargain and barter!
IV.
He deals us the hand,--and no one may discard it!
The game must go on with no power to retard it!
And whether the hand be a good one or bad one,
He asks of us only to play it a glad one.
V.
Then let people talk about life as they see it;
You can make it for you what your heart may decree it;
For I always have found--and I'm happy to say it,--
'Tis a jolly good game if you know how to play it!
A Contented Farmer.
Wheat-crop heapin' in de shock,
Corn jes' keeps a-bumpin';
Oats a-yallerin' in de sun,--
Cotton des a-jumpin'!
Millet, Kafir-corn an' cane
Bust their selves a-growin';
Oklahoma's home for me
Till Gabriel goes to blowin'!
Hell and Heaven.
"Doan't tell me dat hell am away off yander," said an old darkey as he stood before the display window of the vegetable market where a dozen water-melons, the first of the season, reposed in unconscious temptation. "Dem millyuns cost a dollar apiece, an' I hain't got but thirty cents ter save me from the bad place. Go 'way, man! I tell you hell am right hyar, an' hebben only sebenty cents away!"
Caught on the Fly.
Of course, it is all right to aim high, but it's the fellow that never shoots at all that fails to bring down the game.
After all, the alleged failures of life are not of much importance. It is what one does with his failures that tells the story of his despair or hope.
When a man is always dressed and has his boots on ready for the journey, Opportunity comes along in her automobile and invites him to get in and ride with her.
June Time.
Pleasures fond are singing,
Love, for you and me,
And the moments bringing
Joys of land and sea!
June-time is tune-time!
Don't you hear the song?
All the time is love time
Where the roses throng!
Don't you sigh or sorrow!
Raptures full and free
Crown each glad tomorrow,
Sweet, for you and me!
June-time and tune-time,
Where the roses throng,
Life-time and love-time
And the world of song!
The Candidate.
He's getting so busy, he makes the world dizzy,
His smoke can be seen from afar;
He kisses the babies and flatters the ladies
And gives the old man a cigar!
Good-bye, Dear Heart.
I.
Good-bye, Dear Heart! I go my own sad way,
And you go yours, and Life is agony;
And yet I must not weakly beg you stay,
In spite of all your absence means to me.
II.
Though distance part, though sky and sea divide,
To you I must not reach detaining hands;
The years are many and the world is wide,
And Love's fair roses bloom in many lands.
III.
With all the joys and all the wishes fond
My soul sends after you, we can't regret;
The raptures wait us in the sweet Beyond,
And we shall teach our memories to forget.
IV.
We meet no more! The hand-clasp and embrace,
The hot, mad kiss, the crush of lips to lips,
The melt of eye and tender flush of face,--
These all for us have passed to last eclipse.
V.
So, good-bye, Dear! Good-bye for evermore!
Adown the years our halting feet shall press,
Our lone hearts wander, till the quest is o'er,
And Love shall lead us back to happiness!
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"I've knowed some mighty fine scholars in figgers," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, "that never could calkilate the problem of human life. Purty near every feller when he gets to figgerin' on it, tries to git the Almighty Dollar fer the answer, and it won't figger out. I've seen lots of men in my time an' I never seed one yit that money made happy. An' if happiness ain't the answer to all this here figgerin' an' foolin' an' fightin', then I give it up.
"I'd ruther have Myrandy sing 'Ole Fokes at Home' when I'm lonesome like than to hev $10 Williams layin' around all over the place. It's more comp'ny to me, a whole lot more!"
Toss a Kiss to Care.
Toss a kiss to Care, and say,
"You are only for a day";
You with all your woes and tears
Never linger through the years.
Toss a kiss to Care, and be
Happy in your ecstasy;
Bid your grief begone, and smile
With the pleasures for awhile!
Caught on the Fly.
The bass-drum is all right at the head of the procession, but the still-hunt cuts the most ice in politics.
The up-to-date dude, a-sport with patent-leathers and a Panama hat, puts on lots of style, but he began life as a bald headed and bare-foot boy along with the common herd.
Whenever you see an old maid who giddily shies off from the croup when the little folks grow wheezy, you can put it down as a sure sign that she is trying to conceal her age.
The Glorious Fourth.
Sister got her new hat wet,
An' her white dress fair;
Mother got a cannon-crack
'Sploded in her hair;
Pap got powder in his face
Shootin' anville thayre;
Billy got an' ear tore off,
Sammy lost an eye;
Got two fingers broke myself,
Fourth o' ole July!
When the Bills Come Due.
There are many things that bother
In this mixed up world of ours,
And the paths we wander over
Are not always filled with flowers;
While some days are bright and sunny
There are others black and blue,--
And the day that brings the trouble
When the bills come due!
When the bills come due,
After all the debts accrue,
O, it's all another story,
When the bills come due!
We blow in without a falter
For most every thing in sight,
From the dawn of Monday morning
Till the dark of Sunday night;
And we dinner on the dainties,
Robe in garbs of gorgeous hue,
But it's all another story
When the bills came due.
O, we chase the rounds of travel,
On a cruise from shore to shore,
And no diff'rence what we purchase
Still we always buy the more;
It's a barter every minute,
Till possessions large accrue,
But the clouds come down with darkness
When the bills come due!
When the bills come due,
After all the debts accrue,
O, it's all another story,
When the bills come due!
Well Prepared.
"How are you getting on, Mose?" asked an anxious creditor of an impecunious colored farmer.
"Wull, boss, pickin's kinder slim erroun' de cabin jes' now, but I'm a livin' in hopes. I've got two yakers er cotton's dat's middlin' fine, an' ten yakerser worter-millyuns dat am de bes' I ever see; an' ef I doan't git er millyun yakers er hebben dis fall, I miss my guess mighty bad!"
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"Thar's nuthin' in all this world so dog-cheap ez advice," said Uncle Ezra Mudge. "I've give my seven boys enough advice off an' on to fix over the world an' finish up Heaven, an' 'en they don't know enough to let cigarettes alone, even. Thar's nuthin, arter all, that teaches a boy so quick es a lickin.' When he gits lammed all ter pieces by some kid thet he kep' a-pickin' at till good natur' fergot ter be a vartue, an' pasted him several between the eyes, he may not look so purty but he will know two or three things so blamed well he'll never fergit 'em ontell Gabriel blows his conk shell in the mornin'!"
* * * * *
Life may be One Grand Sweet Song but we are generally furnishing the music by pounding the bass-drum for the fellow who is pounding the bass-drum for us.
* * * * *
"Love's young dream" may be the sweetest thing in life, but there is nothing like pork gravy and hot biscuit for sticking to the ribs.
"There's No Use to Worry."
There's no use to worry,
When trouble appears,
For she leaves in a hurry
And bottles her tears;
There's a song for each sorrow,
A smile for each grief,
And the joys of tomorrow
Bring happy relief.
There's no use to worry!
This world's a good place,
If you fly from its flurry
And keep a bright face;
There is never a sorrow
That sickens the soul,
If you wait for the morrow
And let the cares roll!
A Prayer.
Lord, as I journey down the way,
Grant me good work for every day,
And, till my labor here is past,
To work with Thee until the last!
Words are poor vehicles for the carrying of thought. The glance of only one bright eye can tell a sweeter story than was ever written out in all the books of men.
A Song of Green Valleys.
I.
A Song of Green Valleys,--the valleys new born
With the gold of the wheat and the green of the corn,
Where the roses arise from the dews of the night
And the paths for Love's feet are a-swoon with delight!
II.
The Voice of the Valleys! The brooks to the seas
Mingle multiplied praises with Love's lullabies,
And the shouts of glad children exultingly rise
From the daisies of earth to the stars of the skies.
III.
The calm of the Valleys! The raptures increase
With the calls of content and the pleasures of peace,
And the homes of the happy their gladness engage
From the rose-days of youth to the snow-days of age.
IV.
The bliss of the Valleys! There life blossoms sweet,
And the night-time and noon time in melody meet,
Till the sorrows that sadden the care-clouded day
Find the smiles ever beaming and vanish away.
V.
A Song of Green Valleys! O, joys that they bring
Where the breeze whispers love in the love-days of spring,
And the songs of the thrush from the love gardens float
With the music that spills from the mocking-bird's throat!
VI.
A Song of Green Valleys! O, valleys that spread
From the croon of the babe to the dirge of the dead,
Beyond the long journey we leave you,--but then,
God grant we shall meet you and have you again!
Ate Boys Himself.
He was a four year old Oklahoma Fountleroy, in knee pants, and with golden curls that would make an angel envious. His face still wore the divine beauty of the cradle, and his large, luminous eyes reflected an innocence unspotted of the world.
But the carpenter on the building did not appreciate his company. He was always in the way. So the carpenter thought he would frighten him away, by a story of horrible danger.
"Do you see that big man coming there?" said the carpenter to him.
The child nodded assent.
"Well," continued the carpenter; "you would better run away before he gets you. That big man eats a boy for breakfast every morning, and he may eat you."
A look of ineffable scorn slowly penetrated beneath the curls. The large, innocent eyes took on an expression of supreme contempt. Then the angel indifferently said:
"I ate a boy once; he was a nigger!"
Caught on the Fly.
A drummer is known by the stories he tells.
Don't be in a hurry to do a mean thing. You'll have plenty of time to get sorry if you put it off until day after tomorrow.
When a man stops to count the cost of a noble deed, temptation has already stormed and captured the fortifications of his honor.
The $1 bill is a very popular brand among the people, but if history makes no mistake, it takes the $1,000 bill to secure votes in the Missouri legislature.
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"I notice," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, "Thet the self-made man is always kept so busy tellin' about the fine job of work he turned out, thet he never has time to get the roof on an' the doors an' winders hung. A self-made feller generally shows a rough job put together with dull tools an' in mighty poor taste when you git to lookin' at it real clost, an' it could be mightily improved on by a middlin' sight of polishin', wood-filler an' hard-oil, well rubbed in!"
"What Shall It Matter, Dear?"
I.
What shall it matter, Dear, how goes the weather.--
We with our hands and our hearts linked together,--
We with our faces, till daisies we're under,
Set to the skies with their welcomes of wonder.
II.
What shall it matter, Dear, how goes the battle?
Something is greater than all of its rattle,
Something that gladdens the heart with the story
Telling of Love and Love's infinite glory.
III.
What shall it matter, Dear, how the world use us?
'Tis but a show and its antics amuse us!
World that knows nothing of all our sweet gladness
And of the love that dispels every sadness!
IV.
What shall it matter, then, what shall it matter?
Peace still awaits after all of earth's clatter!
Peace still awaits, all our love-dreams adorning,
There in the bliss of the Glorified Morning!
Caught on the Fly.
Life's experiences are very much the same as when we go fishing. The biggest fish always gets away. But even then we have a pretty good feast on the minnows.
Yesterday is life's departed king; tomorrow holds all the possibilities of clown and emperor. Only today wears the glittering crown and the purple robes of power.
Don't pray for what you want, and quit with the prayer. Spit on your hands and grab it as it hurries by.
The lawn-mower is quite a play thing for the city-bred man, but in the interest of humanity he ought to be vaccinated against the back ache.
"When the 'Phone Bell Rings."
It's no difference what you're doing,
Whether you're asleep or ain't,
When the 'phone begins pursuing
It will catch you,--no complaint!
For its call is strong and steady,
And it always answer brings,
For you hurry with your "ready!"
When the 'phone bell rings!
O, it interrupts your vision
With its long, unceasing howl;
It dispels your dreams elysian
With insistence fresh and foul!
O, it summons you at meal-times
With a joy that stays and clings,
Till you swear it's always de'il-times
When the 'phone bell rings!
It's no matter where you're straying,--
In the garden, barn or bed,
There's no time to spend in praying.
Or in playing, quick or dead;
And if Gabriel "in that morning"
Wants a good old trump that swings,
Just let "central" sound his warning
While the 'phone bells rings!
The Negro's Warning.
Doan't yuh grumble, brudder!
Doan't yuh nebber doubt it,
Debbil gwine ter git yuh
'Foh yuh think erbout it!
Put yuh in de iurn-works
Whar de sinnah weeps,
Loadin' up de injines
Shovelin' coal fer keeps!
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"I've often noticed," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, as he slowly filled his Missouri meerschaum with Virginia twist,--"I've offen noticed thet nerve is the most vallyble asset in the credit items of human life. The pore man thet's got a plenty of it is an uncrowned king with pears's an' di'monds at his command, but the king thet lacks it will soon be uncrowned too. When a rich man er a famous man gits down in the mouth onct an' loses his nerve, it's all day with him in a minnet, an' a rope or a six-shooter ginerally winds him up. But if a feller hangs on to his nerve, he is alright fer the sights and scenes of this world an' he needn't be nussin' any worries 'bout the next one."
"Hands Around, My Honey."
Sparrow on the wagon-shed,
Chirping with a will;
Robin in the cherry-tree
Warblin' fit to kill!
Every thing's rejoicin',
Hidin' of the wrong,--
So hands around, my honey,
And we'll join the song!
Mock-bird on the chimney top,--
How that rascal mocks,--
Spillin' songs of melody,
From his music-box!
Over all the live-long place
All the pleasures throng,
So hands around, my honey,
And we'll join the song!
The Spirit of Compromise.
"I done heah dat de dimmycrats kinder comp'omised at de St. Looey convention meetin'," said old Black Mose. "I tell you, man, dat com'p'omisin' bis'ness am a great thing, suah! My ole woman en' me hez quahled en' fit en' fussed erroun' fer nigh fohty yeahs ober wheddah I should pack in de watah er chop de wood, en' we fin'ly comp'omised de mattah by hur a doin ob 'em bofe!"
Best of All.
Pie-million, cantaloope;
Musk-million tall;
But de blessed worter-million
Am de bes' of all!
Whar de worter-million grows,
Hebben's dar bechune de rows!
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"It hain't so much difference what kind of work you do as how you do it," said Uncle Ezra Mudge. "The feller thet sets around an' kicks on the kind of a job he has never gits many others offered him, while the chap thet does good work at whatsumever he gits giner'ly finds a ladder to climb up to the top.
"I reckon David out there herdin' the sheep never kicked much on his job, an' I'll bet four 'coon-skins thet he wuz the best sheep-herder in all the Promised Land, er the Lord wouldent a-picked him out an' set him to work at the job of bein' king."
Little Sermons.
Where the world is going is not of much consequence. It's where you are going that cuts the ice.
When the sermon gets over thirty minutes long, the Devil comes to church and takes a seat in the Amen corner.
Heaven is in every man's easy reach, but some are too contrary to even tip-toe for the blessings of the other Kingdom.
"Don't Worry or Fret, My Dearie!"
Don't worry or fret, my dearie!
The shadows will soon go by;
Before half your tears have vanished
The sun's in the happy sky;
There's trouble enough, my dearie,
In days of a glad life long,
But Sorrows will die with no one to sigh
With Love and a little of Song!
There are some things about "our island possessions" which will bear imitation this hot weather. The costumes Of the Igorrotes, for instance.
Caught on the Fly.
Mr. Knowing How commands a princely salary while Hard Work is on the bum hunting for wages.
Some people are so anxious for happiness that they make themselves miserable in running it down.
Whether we learn much in the school of experience or not, we all register for the full term and pay the entire tuition mentioned in the catalogue.
Charity is something of which the mills of human life never turn out an over-production. Even some of the blessed saints could use a little more in their daily walk and conversation.
Hope.
All the path is dark with shadows
And the road is hard to see,
But there's sunshine on the hill-tops
And that's the way for me!
There are many blessings in this world, but a shade-tree at the end of the cotton row, and a water-melon cooling in a seventy-foot well are two of its greatest joys.
To One Departed.
I.
This life, Dear Heart, seems all so small and mean
Since thou art gone,--its prizes vague and vain,
Its efforts fruitless and its glories lean,
And all its heaped-up treasures worthless gain!
II.
Amid them all my slow feet wander lone,--
My heart cries hopeless for its perfect mate;
The fancies murmur and the longings moan
For thee whose absence leaves me desolate.
III.
Yet, somewhere, somehow, in the years that shine
With God's perfected wisdom throned above,
I know thou wait'st my coming, with divine
Enraptured welcomes of supremest love.
IV.
The Vision beckons, and I fix my gaze
Unchanging to the promise of the skies:
The full fruition of these lonely days
Dwells in the heaven of thine angel eyes!
V.
What matter, Dear, though dullard thousands throng
And jostle rudely at Life's holy feast?
The dull ears hear no tender strains of Song,
And they that know Love best know Love the least.
VI.
And still with yearning hands that longing grope
And straining eyes that search to pierce the doom,
I creep the path-ways of my only Hope,
And seek the Loved One passed beyond the Gloom!
When the Dollar Pounds the Door.
It's no matter how exclusive
Men may be in social ways,
And how uppishly their manners
Every one of them displays:
Born to home-spun or the purple,
Very rich or very poor,
They're at home to every caller
When the Dollar pounds the door!
They may dwell in stately mansions
With extensive yards and grounds;
They may run their automobiles
And play golf through all the rounds;
But within their mountain villas
Or resorts by ocean shore,
They're at home to every caller
When the Dollar pounds the door.
Whether in the humble station
Or the mighty seats of state,
Eating crusts to banish hunger
Or a-feast on fruits of fate,--
There's no one who's found forgetting
That great lesson taught of yore,
For they're home to every caller
When the Dollar pounds the door.
Mister Dollar, Mister Dollar!
You have such a winning way,
That I'd like you in the fam'ly
Every hour of every day!
And no matter where I'm staying,
Please break in with rush and roar
For I'm always glad to see you,
Mr. Dollar, at the door?
The Kingbolt Philosopher.
"I've wunder'd through this vale of sunshine for about sev'nty years," said Uncle Ezra Mudge, as he filled his Missouri meerschaum for the twentieth time, "an' I never yit seen a feller thet amounted to shucks who wuz allus a-hangin' on to someone else. The pore soul thet hain't got enough git up an' git to him to strike out fer hisself an' find a path of his own through the woods is mighty nigh sartin to git lost in the brush.
"Purty nigh ev'ry feller I ever knowed thet did anything wuth while did it by usin' the climbers on his own legs. Ef he stan's 'round waitin' to borry somebody else's tools, he wastes a mighty sight of his own time an' don't know how to use 'em when the other feller gits ready to be accommedatin'!"
Don't You Grumble.
I.
Don't you grumble at the weather when the clouds are hanging flat,
For the sun will soon be shining and you'll have to growl at that,
And before in working order you your growler well have got,
You will have to change its focus for another kind of shot!
II.
Don't you grumble at the fortune that the Fates incline to send!
If it's good, rejoice with gladness; if it's bad, why, make it mend;
And before you hit the gravel for the world beyond the years,
Things will balance pretty even through the tangled smiles and tears.
III.
Don't you grumble at the meanness that heaps up your path with wrong!
There are golden hearts of goodness that are full of love and song,
And along the ways you wander all their anthems ever rise
Like a chorus of the angels from the mansions in the skies!
IV.
Don't you grumble at the weather! Don't you growl around at fate!
In this world of life and labor, you must fish or cut the bait;
And if here you're always fretting o'er each little sob and sigh,
You will hardly relish heaven when you reach the Bye and Bye.
Enough Heaven for Him.
"Go 'way, man!" said an obsarvant Logan county darkey. "Doan't yuh come en talk to me erbout gittin' rich er bein' pooah! Nary one ob dem things bodders me. Ef perlitical campaigns'll jes' las' all de time en canderdates run all de yar roun', dis worl'll be hebben ernuff fer me!"
"Keep Away from Trouble."
Keep away from trouble,--
Keep away, I say!
He will double, double,
If you walk his way;
Go the other path-way;
Pass the rascal by;
Keep your face a-smiling
For the glory-sky!
Caught on the Fly.
The man that can't find any heaven in this world of sunshine has no promise of getting a chance to hunt for it in the next.
David said in his haste that all men are liars; and the Good Book does not record that he took it back after he had plenty of time to think it over.
The sublime faith that moves mountains and conquers kingdoms is frequently helpless and hopeless against the clatter of a garrulous tongue.
The Darky's Heaven.
I sho'ly doan't know
Whut soht ob a place
Dat de Lawd's fixin' so
Foh his own culled race;
But ef he "in dat day"
Wants de dahkeys ter catch,
Give 'em banjoes ter play
In a big millon patch!
Millon patch thet's so long
Dey can nevab git cross it,
En a feller not strong
Jes' purtendin' ter boss it;
Whar nebber's a dog
Ter molest whut yuh swipe,
En wharebber yuh jog
All de millons ah ripe!
No Room for Bankruptcy.
"Things ah sholy lookin' up ahroun' de cabin dese heah days!" said the jubilant darkey. "With watah-millons crowdin' de cohn-rows full, de cotton laid by, en fohty canderdates runnin' foh office, de bankrup'cy cou't am moah den foh hund'ed miles away, shuah!"
Minnows and Big Fish.
In the happy days of childhood,
By the river's rushing tide,
Where the crystal waters murmured
Over all the ripples wide,
It was perfect joy to angle
Through the spring time's laughing day
Though we only caught the minnows
And the big fish got away.
'Twas no matter how we waited,
How we watched with anxious eyes,--
For the finny tribe to yield us
Captures of enormous size;
There was always disappointment
Filling us with deep dismay,
For we only caught the minnows
And the big fish got away!
And it's much the same in manhood!
As we line the stream of life,
Fishing for the fame and fortune
In the waters full of strife,
It's no matter how we angle
As the young years turn to gray,
We can only catch the minnows
And the big fish get away!
But the sport, the sport, is royal,
And it never had a match!
So it's really unimportant
As to what we lose or catch!
Let us use our highest efforts
Till the Father calls to say:
"What a splendid mess of minnows
Though the big fish got away!"
Little Sermons.
Christianity and religion are great things, but a holy life knocks the spots off them both in the long run.
Wealth comes from toil and sacrifice, but the treasures of the heart are vaccinated with love and are the parents of all real happiness.
There is no use to spend any time in worrying about the next world. Take care of the world you have, and the next one will take care of itself and you, too.
It's better to whistle than cry, brother,
It's better to whistle than cry;
The day may be gloomy and dreary
And black with the storms of the sky;
But whistle your heart to the sorrows!
They'll smile as they hurry you by!
It's better to whistle than cry, brother,
It's better to whistle than cry!
Plenty of Exercise.
"Mary Jane," said Farmer Jim to his wife as he pondered over the letter just received from their boy Silas who was away at College; "Mary Jane, what does Si mean about all this 'tarnal athletic business he's a-talkin' of?"
Mary Jane had been a school-teacher before she married Farmer Jim, and so she quickly explained:
"Why, he means dumb-bells and Indian clubs and trapezes and such things, to give exercise to the boys, father."
"Wull, I'll be dumb-belled ef I had him out yander in the cottonfield a-choppin' out the crab-grass, I guess he'd git all the exercise he wanted!" snorted Farmer Jim.
"Away With the Sorrow."
Away with the sorrow,
The troubles and tears!
We'll laugh with the morrow
Through all of the years.
Away with the errors
That scourge as a rod!
Our sins and our terrors
Shall vanish with God.
The sob of our sadness
Shall cease bye and bye;
Away to the gladness,--
We're bound for the sky.
The Real Article.
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Oklahoma SunshineChapter I: Part 1
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