6
M’i SOUL.
When that the nvannoeunt shows of Ufa
, Are vanished from us or sr mnmorina
Of (lowersand times and ships of other seas;
While friends and HWeethsarts death’s roslst
| less knife
Has silt away even while love was rife,
And one by one are Inst the golden keys
That oped our thoughts and gave the power
to please,
And wo To us nothing whether for joy or st rift*—
What ahull we he when cornea that certain
time?
Singers in fame’s great rage of birds, not
hung?
Shapes tn the common piano of tilings unsung?
Out of the paradlsa of holy rhyme?
Oh, let my soul (lee to some world sublime
And feel that It will still lie living, young!
—Edward H. Creamer in New York Bun.
DEAD MAN’S HAND.
“It was a hot tiny In June," wild the old
cattleman as ho thoughtfully read the
maker's name In his sombrero, “an while
not possess! none of these yere heat gauges
to say ackerate I’m allewln It was rldln
hard on jest seeli weather as this. The
Tucson mall was In, an a hand of us was
at tho poslofllce amakln of demands for
letters when In comes Cherokee Hall,
looktn some moody, an sets himself down
on a shoebox.
