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|M | mow S V, fflMfflMSt .v.- ^ ,\ yjj^r ' ?""- ,• ISMl! ; -a^V. r 2 « ? I T H E SONG IN THE SAGE. l l The only thing that ho possessed That he could call his ow n vi as a half a dozen records And a battered graphophone. H e would wind it up at twilight. W ith his wagon fo r a stage. A nd send the “ folk songs’* drifting Land-Sick -r»n- Through the eresu ood and the sage. BY EBEN D. FINNEY I the desert m oon w as coasting 'ow n the si.or trails to the w est; i* i the sunset’s gold had vanished O r ~ distant m ountain’s crest, rtoe he* ^ r , in the valley, ? In the ' ire.ight’s dying glow f Hived again the scenes o f boyhood—* T n f V i n -------I--D--K a OJ * ig ago. wW a y down 1upon the “ Silver thri Hw 3o & *& lie a liftii At the wor<AO A III §< r But he’d spec?(j ills old When, withl labored, donm • * ™ M V T f i t South in Floated out across ti >wingr old.” I p r # r { o r De tl lUl Is Just another story ireads o f life, the Southland, Of #i nw w— broken 1 Of 8!1 old home ii Of cC3i* hIJe Ciby and w UoU anotlher sord Of & manhood, And the aftermau And its keeper. ne sneep nera I w i i l l J i f f f l A J^ow he chooses from his records One he loves above the rest, Fondles it with clum sy fingers. H olds it briefly to his b re a st! Bets the worm and rusted needfe, Then he throws the thing in gear, [while a vagrant starbeam glistens In the splashing o f a tear. W hat beside the tender pleading In “ Oh ween no m ore today/* ire Brings the look of hungry longing T o f faded gray? man o f the story, or In sage land JJy QM i. ie chorus Kentucky H om e.” W ill FgiutZLiv s5SSB MXBhSS wmm B ack on the arid prairie A thousand miles, or more, I still hear the grand old ocean Caressing a starlit shore;— And the ripples ride On the ebbing tide, Perhaps ’tis the moon on the prairie, But to not so to-night. i *1 * 1 * As the sands turn o’er and o ’er. lu me iiu l su cu-muiiL. For the moon rides high in a silver sky, And the waves are flecks of light. ’T is the winds that pass Through the prairie-grass, Transformed in the radiance bright. t h e d e s e r t I A S r a ’ u,‘ „ b b , " ' S th' *kr. s ? : a f c i S r THE WOMAN WHO HITDjBE-g m j g a .1,,, - SHtp&make you ,Jw|n, WSfa'fltfit.e. hands— "Wmave made for you tb The whispering wash of waters. W h at else can that music be ilm \ V JQ3Ll C IS C C u l l L llc i t m u s i c D C B ut the lullaby of the wind and sky, And the song of the blessed sea? N ay, ’tis only the breeze Through the mesquite-trees. A h ,— ’tis more than that to me. Hark to that laughter eerie ’Tis the voice of a lonely loon From far away on the silver bay, In the bright path of the moon. ’T is a screech-owl’s call,— A h,— that is all,— For day will be breaking soon. And what is that salty fragrance T h at comes on the freshened air? ’T is the perfume blown from the sea­weed flats, Far sweeter than incense rare. N a y ,— ’ tis only the dust i From the sun-baked crust,— Or those cactus flowers there, Oh, it m ay be a screech-owl calling T o welcome a brea’ * And it m ay be the mesquite-trees T hat sounds like the song of the bay But the voice of the sea Comes back to me,— And m y heart is away,— away. Covers up its deali ’ VCt pallJ KOnbr, tihf e ^ . • Its a*u“st/e" r?it y we I 311 love ns our eyes from matter’s sway to that blue arch above Echoing the'grim'coyote’s minor ^ f l i ^ ^ ^ SWeeps aIonS’ When the stars shine in their nip ?’ quavenng song, And we join th e a te r 3 “ r° Un^. our beds uP°n | | sand, But ere we leave ^he earth t o t Wh‘C\ SUrrounds f every hand; We pat the desert’s shining strand? its T o ^ J l f f l ( i fSr .0^ ™ ^ , ^ * * , ” "* i , ' r s« e , r ° " b " ' ,h k “ , ,hr° a'' We ri,e see ,b , eo„ e § ® ' m Serstands! found him espair, /‘ground him— H^ms.in. the air* V^im and gathered e to her heart— rod an uncharted sea, Bht to win and be free— egjffie was part’ ' J _ ||!!|sk she cried to the man, H ^ # « u can. you can M ™ jBHn^lng. of Chance; ^H)b$lting- W T m HWi\ I Jancc*. gj&ver _JHVe died, *||Hhand, her warm, strong H I ;-v: . H i took full command. ^ S h e tide! filled with trust, gp j^Pppered. ‘ *you must, you W i lli1l1f1!® ? ?- ay Us OU, 11 lLia,y Ut t/VVeir u Hi breaking day,— [C , T f mcr tnan tfle gleam of gems from earth’s embosomed mi. ....................................... “ r Sd toe0fflyste7 °lnight time Md them ste™«sm p i mm ur sou s t eir strength and charm, which cannot pa’ss away. Ira Hubert Sefton,; August 29, 1917. P y guidiifg, r^re best, HWrohiding I^ ^ S a st; I | kept him lOS" • t, \ V v -? ' h y» ' -. J H p m and stress of strife, ^ ^ "tb u g h -with the game; o f i l m m cost/ . H p in g , whispering still, « •. r* -- rT• ? ? ?*'. )>' t./ 7 H: t. , :/v : wr- - _>Ur- WSMm H l l •'?^^Siits^^i^P&^S^BeSsSSak m Wm bBmSBMS