8
KTHE SUXDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTLAND, SEPTEaiBER 23, 1917.
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'OLD-TIME SONGS
KWO old-time songs of sentiment.
i ciui niru uj reauera mo via
Poems' page, have been sent in by
. Ida G. Voll urn Keller, of 628 East
Idison street "Pictures From Life's
iier Side" and "Barney McCoy." The
1 mer is taken from an old-time eong-
ok, published by Delehanty & Keng-
riCTXRES FROM I-IFETS OTHER
5IDF-..
pyright, MDCCCXCVX by Henry J.
Wehman.
rrds and Music by Charles E. Baer.
the world's mighty gall'ry of pic
tures fiang the ecenes that are painted
from life;
picture of love and of passion.
rhe picture of peace and of strife;
picture of youth and of beauty.
Old age and the blushing young
bride.
han? on the wall, but the saddest
of all
p.re the pictures from life's other side.
f-'horus
s a picture from life's other side;
Someone who fell by the way;
life has cone out with the tide
rhat may have been happy one day.
fme poor old mother at home.
Vatching; and waiting alone.
nging to hear from the lov'd ones so
dear;
Tis a picture from life's other side.
first scene is that of a gambler.
Who has lost all his money at play.
his dead mother i ring from his
fingrer,
-!he wore on her wedding day;
s last earthly treasure he stakes it.
lows his head, that his shame he
may hide.
tarn they lifted his head they found
he was dead.
Tis a picture from life's other side.
e next tells a tale of two brothers.
Whose paths in life difTrent ways
led;
e one was in luxury living,
rhe other one beitged for his bread;
e dark night they met on the high
way. Tour money or life!" the thief
cried.
id he took with his knife his own
brother's life.
Tis a picture from life's other side.
e last is a scene by the river.
f a heart-broken mother and babe.
ath the harbor lishts' glare stands
and shivers. .
n outcast whom no one will save;
d yet fha was once a true woman,
-he was somebody's darling ana
pride.
d help her. she leaps, there is no one
to weep.
Tis a picture from life's other side.
NELLIE BLY.
Hie Bly shuts her eye
pVhen she goes to sleep.
a when she wakens up again
ler eyes begin to peep.
Ten she walks she lifts her foot.
Vnd then she puts it down,
i when she lights upon the zrcin
rhere's music in the town.
. Nellie! Ho. Nellie!
.isten. love, to me;
sing for you.
11 play for you a dulcet melody.
Irs. O. F Hallett. contributor. Re.
iuested by Mrs. Hall, of Portland.
'wo poems of the long ago, that were
iurrected In Congressional debate
en the bill admitting Arizona and
w lcxlco to statehood was under
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m-n-iiiiii'
consideration, have been sent in by R.
P. McManus, of this city. They are
entitled "My Arisona Bedroom," and
"New Mexico." and the latter was writ
ten by Perry E. Brochus at Washing
ton, I. C. In 159.
NEW MEXICO.
I love that land of brilliant clime.
As bright as ever mortals know.
With lovely vales and hills sublime.
The land of bright New Mexico.
I love the valleys deep and green.
Where crystal waters laughing flow
In wild romance the hills between.
The valleys of New Mexico.
I love the prairies broad and free.
Where the elk and deer unfet
tered go.
With tranquil brook and lonely tree.
The prairies of New Mexico.
I love the peaks beyond the cloud
- That crlisten with perennial snow, ,
The glorious summits of the proud
Sierras of New Mexico.
I love the hues that gild the West,
At evening, with supernal glow.
And crown the hills with dazzling
crest.
The sunset of New Mexico.
I love the soft, mellifluent tongue.
That from the lips doth sweetly
flow.
Like strains with harp and timbrel
sung.
The language of New Mexico..
I love the silence deep and grand
That reigns around, above, below.
From mountain top to river strand.
The silence of New Mexico.
I love the skies so fair and bright.
That o'er the earth their radiance
throw.
Serene by day. so grand at night.
The skies of fair New Mexico.
Oh. I would haste, would haste away.
More swiftly than the light can go.
And there forever fondly stay.
In the hills of far New Mexico.
i
Oh. yes. beneath that gentle sky.
Where moon and stars so softly glow.
There I would live, there I would die.
On the wilds of dear New Mexico.
I
Then bury me on the mountains high.
Through whose deep vales bright
waters flow
Whose summits pierce the deep blue
sky.
The mountains of New Mexico.
.f ft: - '
MY ARIZOH.1 BEOROOX.
Oh. my Arizona bedroom
Is beneath the Milky Way.
And the moon is in its ceiling.
And the star that tells of day:
And the mountains are the corners.
And the dry earth is the floor
Of my Arizona bedroom.
Which is large as all outdoors.
Oh. my Arizona bedroom
Is ventilated right:
Svery zephyr unuer heaven
Comes to me with blithe "good
night":
Comes to me with touch of blessing
And of ozone, one drink more.
In my Arizona bedroom.
Which is large as all outdoors.
Oh. my Arizona bedroom
Has the lightning on Its wall.
And the thunders rap the panels
And their heavy voices call:
And the night birds wing above me
And the owlet hoots galore.
Through my Arizona bedroom.
Which is large as all outdoors.
Oh. my Arizona bedroom
f.t sometimes seems to ma .. .
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OF SENTIMENT CONTRIBUTED AS REQUESTED
(Schoolboys and orators by thousands have declaimed It, but the trenchant worth of this poem's decla
rations have not dulled with the years. The copy herewith printed was clipped from an old school reader
by H. McGulre, of Newberg, Oregon.)
What constitutes a State?
Not high-raised battlements or labored mound, "
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts,
Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume . to
pride.
No; men, high-minded men,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued,
In f oreBt brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;
Hen who their duties know
But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain;
Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain;
These constitute' a State;
And Sovereign Law, that State's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes elate,
Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ilL
Is afloat in middle heaven
With each star in ecstacy;
And the tide that turns at midnight
Drifts us down to morning's shore.
Floats us, stars and bed and bedstead.
On the ocean of outdoors.
Oh. my Arizona bedroom
Is beneath the splendid stars.
And the clouds roll up the curtains.
And the windows have no bars;
And I see my God in heaven
As the ancient did of yore.
In my Arizona bedroom.
Which is large as all outdoors.
J William Lloyd in New York Sun.
WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE LOW.
Gerald M. Lane.
When twilight falls on the dim old
wall s
And day is past and done;
As we sit and dream in the fading
gleam.
Come mem'rles one by one.
Old friends known in the years long
gone.
In fancy greet us still.
And voices dear we long to hear.
The silence seem to fill.
Chorus:
Jut when tb day Is over.
Just when the lights are low.
Back to the heart returneth
Life's golden long ago.
Far. far away we wander.
Watching the firelight gleams:
Far. far away from the world's shad
ows grey.
Into the land of dreams.
With distant sounds in the street
around.
The throng goes surging by.
But far away in dreams we stray.
Where verdant meadows lie.
There once more, as in days of yore.
To roam each well-known way.
'Till over all night's shadows fall.
And; dreamland fades away.
t
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iiini nriiwrtMiwrMMir i
OUTING."
By Geprge W. AbelL
'Tis Summer and each breeze that
blows
From yonder wood is bringing
A fragrance sweeter, than the rose.
From where the flow'rs are springing.
They bid me come. My plans are made.
The city cannot hold me.
The forest lures me to its shade.
Where nature may enfold me.
I climb the hills with eager feet.
And through the vales I wander.
Or in some cozy -lone retreat
I read and think and ponder.
Here thrive the lily, fern and rush.
Here, beast and bird together.
The chipmunk scampers through the
brush.
The hare bounds o'er the heather.
The
partridge
thrums beneath the
birch.
Before the rain and thunder.
The squirrel from his lofty perch
Looks down with fear and wonder.
The thrush sings sweet at close of day.
From 'neath the shadows resting.
The oriole pours forth his lay
Whlle In the elm tree nesting.
The robin's song I love to hear;
It soothes me when I'm weary.
Though one far sweeter greets my ear:
The wood note of the veery.
So. in my tent -beside the stream
That flows beneath the willow.
1 lie and muse and fondly dream.
The mosses for my pillow.
It's restful here; there seems no
strife.
Save nature's charming rustle.
More quiet this than city life.
Where men do naught but hustle;
Here in your hammock you may lie
Or on the lake go sailing.
Or whip some stream with rod and fly.
In quest of trout or grayling.
O, business man. with, nerves ajar,
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And brain all worn and weary.
These woodland echoes, near and far.
Will make you bright and cheery.
So close your office, lock your door
And cease your endless worry.
Come, learn of nature evermore.
For nature does not hurry.
Relax your nerves, come take a rest.
Restore your poor digestion.
To one with business cares oppressed
Good nature's out the question.
Roam through the woods, go where
you will.
Peruse some charming story.
Or view at eve, from lofty hill.
The sunset's fading glory.
Be Just yourself, your nobler self.
With sky and stars above you.
Free from care and greed or pelf.
With nature's God to love you.
Sleep, eat and. bathe at morn or noon.
Then in the sunshine basking,
Abounding health, life's priceless boon.
Is yours for Just the asking.
THE OLD HICKORY CRADLE.
For the Indianapolis Press.
When the clouds of life low gather.
And the days are full of care.
And I mourn for pain and sorrow
As I meet them everywhere.
Then it is my thoughts will wander
Till at last irr peace recline,
As In fancy, our old cradle
With its rockers made of pine.
Yes. I think of childhood's pleasures
And of youthful joys and fears.
As they trip along in memory
Bright beside my creeping years;
And how, after work was ended.
With his jacknife. father mine.
Hewed out that hick-ry cradle
With its rockers made of pine.
And I think how grieved we were then.
While we mourned in childish tears.
As we rocked the heavy cradle
Fee je water next in years.
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Proof it was 'gainst grief and sorrow.
One. two, three, four, up to nine.
Rocked in that wooden cradle
With its rockers made of pine.
As by turns we each was monarch.
Sitting on our rocking throne.
Now to rule in meager mercy
Till beyond It we had grown.
I have slept on downy pillows,
I have dreamed on mattress fine.
But there's none surpass that cradle
With its rockers made of pine.
There the homestead In the forest.
Where the wild flowers bright were
grown.
And the old log house was standing
With the chimney made of stone.
And the loft above the ladder.
Where at bedtime all would climb.
While the youngest In the cradle
With the rockers made of pine,
'Neath the roof as on the clapboards
Poured the rain in volume free.
And the dripping from the eaves, low, '
Pattered down in rythmic glee.
As the stealing breath of slumber
Into happy dreams decline.
There were heard like distant echoes,
Those old rockers made of pine.
Many years have passed and left us.
Some are married, some are dead;
And the old folks, too, are silent, -Lying
in their narrow bed, '
And since then there's naught so
touches
This old. withered heart of mine
As the echoes of that cradle
With its rockers made of pine.
Edna C. Irwin.
Contributed by Mrs. Sada Wood.
TO A SKELETON.
Behold this ruin. "Twas a skull
Once of ethereal spirit full.
This narrow cell was life's retreat;
This space was thought's mysterious
seat.
What beauteous visions filled this
spot.
What dreams of pleasure long forgot.
Nor hope nor Joy, nor love, nor fear
Has left one trace of record here.
Beneath this mouldering canopy
Once shone the bright and busy eye;
But start not at the dismal void.
If social love that eye employed.
If with no lawless fire it gleamed.
But through the dews of kindness
beamed.
That eye shall be forever bright
When stars and sun are sunk In
night.
Withln this hollow cavern hung
The ready, swift and tuneful tongue;
If falsehood's honey it disdained
And when it could not praise was
chained:
If bold in virtue's cause H spoke.
Yet gentle concord never broke
This silent tongue shall plead for
thee
When time unveils eternity.
Say, did these fingers delve the mine.
Or with the envied rubies shine?
To hew the rock, or wear the gem.
Can little now avail to them;
But if the page of truth they sought.
Or comfort to the mourner brought.
These hands a richer meed shall
claim
Than all that wait on - wealth and
fame. -
Avails it whether bare or shod '
These feet the paths of duty trod?
If from the bowers of East they fled
To seek affliction's humble shed:
If grandeur's guilty bride they spurned.
And home to virtue's cot returned
These feet with angel wings shall
vie.
And tread the palace of the sky.
Alice B, Russell. Contributor(
HANOKB&CHIEF EXKjrNO.
DIRECTIONS for six handierchlof dfrlns arm
given. This la U first of a series of articles for
Christmas g-tfts. Reading- from left to right:
'jjo. i Make open meshes length desired for hand
kerchief. Turn, slip stitch over first open mesh; eh. ,
a pioot; ch. . skip 1 mesh. sU st. over next; eh. 10.
turn. sL st. back over first open mesh, turn. s. c 15
times over ch. 10, sL St. over third op. m.; ch. 1, si. st.
over fourth op. m. This completes one scallop. Con
tinue same process across entire leng-th of open meshes.
jfo. X Make open meshes length desired for hand
kerchief. Turn, ch. 10. back Into fourth stitch from
book. make a cluster of 4 d. tr. finished off together:
ch. 1. cluster over second open mesh; ch. X. cluster be
tween 3 clusters: ch. 4. sU st. between same 2 clusters:
ch. . another cluster between same 3 clusters: ch. 6.
skip 1 op. mesh. si. St. over next, turn, s, o. over ch. .
eight times; ch. . sL st. over same op. mesh, turn, a. o.
over ch. eight times; eh. 4, baok 4 sts repeat from
across length of open meshes.
Ko. t Ch. 4. make a cluster of I d. tr. flyitVhed oft
' together m first st; , ch. S, cluster of S d. tr. tn top of
first cluster; ch. 4. sL' st. mto top of first duster: ch. S,
cluster of I a. tr. between S clusters; ch. 4. cluster of
d. tr. In fourth st. from hook; repeat from to
length desired. Turn.
For top edge Ch. 10, a roll stitch or 4. tr. be
tween S clusters; ch. 5, d. tr. between next t clusters;
ch. S: repeat from across.
Ko. 4 Hake a row of open meshes length desired.
Second row ch. S. back 4 ata, make a plcot; ch. S,
picot In same place; ch. 3. plcot In same place; ch. 1. sL
st. over second op. P-: repeat from across.
Na fi Make a row of open meshes length desired.
Second iu ch. S. skip 1 op. sp sL st. over next;
repeat from across, turn.
Third row s. c t times over ch. 8; in last s. e.
make a short plcot. long plcot. short plcot; s. e. S times
over same ch. 3; repeat from over each ch. across,
turn.
Fourth row Ch. 15, si. st. in top of long plcot; eh.
12, L st. between 3 scallops, turn, - c times over ch.
12; ch. 8; repeat from across, turn.
fifth row ch. 5, sL st. over ch. 8; repeat from
over each ch. across, turn.
Sixth row Same as fifth row, except make ch. 7 In
stead of ch. E.
jo. ( Make a row of open meshes length desired.
Second row ch. 5, skip 1 op. m s. c 3 times over
next: repeat from across.
Third and fourth rows Same as second row, only
Increase the number of chain stitches by one for each
THE IRISH RAFPAREES.
A Peasant Ballad of 1691 by Sir Charles
Gavan Duffy.
Righ Shemus he has gone to France,
and left his crown behind
111 luck be theirs, both day and night,
put runnin' in his mind!
Lord Lucan followed after, with his
Slashers brave and true, . .
And now the doleful keen is raised
"What will poor Ireland do?
What must poor Ireland do .
Our luck," they say, "has gone to
France what can poor Ireland
do?"
O. never fear for Ireland, for she has
so'gers still,
For Rory's boys are in the wood and
Remy's on the hill;
And never had poor Ireland more loyal
hearts than these
May God be kind and good to them,
the faithful Rapparees!
The fearless Rappareesl
The Jewel were you. Rory, with your
Irish Rapparees!
Oh, black's your heart. Clan Oliver, an4
coulder than the clay!
Oh, high's your head. Clan Sassenach,
since Sarsneld's gone away!
It's little love you bear to us, for sake
of long ago.
But howld your hand, for Ireland. still
can strike a deadly blow
Can strike a mortal blow
Och! dhar-a-Chreesth! 'tis she that stlU
could strike the deadly blow!
The master's bawn, the master's seat
a surly bodaghl tills;
The master's son, an outlawed man, is
riding on the hills.
But God be praised that round him
throng as thick as Summer bees
The swords that guarded Limerick wall
his loyal Rapparees!
The levin' Rapparees! ,
Who dares say no to Rory Oge, with all
his Rapparees?
Black Billy Grimes of Latnamard, ha
racked us long and sore
God rest the faithful hearts he broke!
we'll never see them more!
But I'll go bail he'll break no more.
while Truagh has gallows trees.
For why? he met one lonesome night
the fearless Rapparees!
The angry Rapparees!
They never sin no more, my boys, who
cross the Rapparees!
Now Sassenach and Cromweller, take
heed of what I say .
Keep down your black and angry looks,
that scorn us night and day;
For there's a Just and wrathful Judge
that every action sees.
And he'll make strong, to right our
wrong, the faithful Rapparees!
The fearless Rapparees!
The men that rode at Sarsneld's side,
the roving Rapparees!
Rig-h Shemus King James II.
After the treaty of Limerick. Pat
ick Sarsfleld. Lord Lucan. sailed with
the brigade to France, and was killed
whilst leading his countrymen to vic
tory at the battle of Landen. in the
Low Countries, on July 29. 1693.
I Bod ash A severe and inhospitable
man.
Sent In by D. W. Lane, Portland, Or.
A TRIBUTE.
More than 30 years ago a monument
to the memory of James A. Garfield
was erected in Washington Park, Cin
cinnati. On it is inscribed the follow
ing beautiful tribute by Ben Wood
Davis:
"The Ivy Is a plant of humble birth.
But trained on guides whose courses
upward lie:
Although its modest cradle is the earth
Its tendrils climb in glory to the
sky."
Respectfully contributed, E. H. Collls