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 Copyright, 1919 
 Clarence B. Douglas 
 
 DEC 29 1919 
 
 ©GIA559199 
 

 
 £*3 
 
 To R. M. McF.— 
 
 Because you have aided the helpless, 
 
 Because you have buried their dead, 
 Because you have clothed the naked 
 
 And those who were hungry you fed, 
 Because from every angle 
 
 You've stood four square and true— 
 Because of these things, "Old Pioneer/' 
 
 I dedicate this to you. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Christmas Morn 9 
 
 The Criminal Convert 12 
 
 Dreams 18 
 
 My Shrine 21 
 
 The Laugh of a Little Chlid 24 
 
 Life's Ebb and Flow „ 26 
 
 A-Boozin' With the Boys 28 
 
 Silas Says 30 
 
 In Bluest Eyes / 32 
 
 At Parting » 33 
 
 Where God Smiled 34 
 
 I Am Tulsa 36 
 
 Sunset at Westport 39 
 
 Columbia, We Have Answered 41 
 
 On to the Ehine 43 
 
 Tulsa's Fighting Engineers 45 
 
 There Are Others 46 
 
 The Mind 48 
 
 To Judge H. T 49 
 
 The Change 51 
 
 The Dawn 52 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 In prowling through some family 
 scrap-books, the writer selected from a 
 job lot of alleged poems and prose ar- 
 ticles those making up the text of this 
 volume. Practically all of the verse has 
 heretofore been published under the sig- 
 nature of the writer in newspapers and 
 magazines and will not be new to some 
 of the readers. Nothing is claimed for 
 the compilation except that the author 
 is personally responsible for the crea- 
 tion of the contents of the collection. 
 He appreciates to the fullest extent 
 their lack of literary merit, but has put 
 them together in this form as a gift- 
 book for purely private circulation 
 among some of his more intimate 
 friends. 
 
 The most ambitious of the verses — 
 "The Criminal Convert"— is based on an 
 incident of the old Indian Territory days 
 and is a part of the history of the Chick- 
 asaw Nation. "Columbia, We have An- 
 swered," was written on the day the 
 
8 A BOOK O' VERSE 
 
 registration booths were opened for the 
 selective draft and was inspired by the 
 throngs of red-blooded American boys 
 swarming around the booths for regis- 
 tration. The concluding article — "The 
 Dawn" — was written as an editorial in 
 the Muskogee Daily Phoenix* of which 
 the writer was then editor, and, was pub- 
 lished when the law was passed creating 
 a state out of Oklahoma and Indian Ter- 
 ritory, and is now embalmed in the his- 
 tory of the State of Oklahoma, com- 
 piled by Historian Joseph B. Thoburn, 
 page 886. Other articles were sug- 
 gested from time to time by the trend 
 of events and are put together in this 
 little volume without the expectation of 
 attracting especial attention. 
 
 The selection was made with the view 
 of having something along patriotic 
 lines, something in dialect, nature stu- 
 dies, sentiment and religious philosophy. 
 With this explanation and excuse for 
 perpetrating the volume on my friends 
 I leave it with them, 
 
 CLARENCE B. DOUGLAS. 
 
CHRISTMAS MORN 
 
 What matter if the other days may 
 
 come and go, 
 Each bringing in its train its joy or woe ; 
 This day, conceived by Deity, a child 
 
 was born; 
 This day belongs to Him, 'tis Christmas 
 
 morn. 
 
 What words e'er spoken 
 
 By human tongue 
 
 Bring rushing to the brain of man 
 
 Such hallowed and such cherished recol- 
 lections ? 
 
 What words so cause the mind 
 
 World wearied though it be, 
 
 To quicken with the flood of memory 
 
 And leaping the gulf of time 
 
 Flow back to those sweet sainted days 
 of yore. 
 
 What images of all that's noblest and 
 
 best 
 Of all most holy and most sacred 
 Are conjured up, 
 As if by magic, heaven sent, 
 
10 A BOOK O' VERSE 
 
 What thoughts of home 
 And all a home can mean 
 To childish innocence and purity- 
 Come trooping down the corridors of 
 
 time 
 From out the dim and mouldy past. 
 It matters not 
 
 If hut or hovel bore the title home. 
 It matters not 
 
 If princely palace was the place. 
 It matters not 
 
 If wealth was lavish in its gifts, 
 Or poverty was pinching with its pain, 
 The elements of happiness were there 
 On Christmas morn. 
 
 As beacon lights adown life's pathway 
 
 Succeeding morns like this 
 
 Have spent in radiant splendor, 
 
 Chaining with annual links of love 
 
 The present to the days of long ago. 
 
 On this day, God given to the Son of 
 Man, 
 
 The eye glistens with a new-found flash. 
 
 Lips curve into heartfelt wishes 
 
 For universal happiness 
 
 And mingle their music with the child- 
 ish laugh. 
 
 Remorseless kings of care, 
 
CHRISTMAS MORN 11 
 
 Of worry, disappointment and discon- 
 tent, 
 Are this day dethroned 
 And in their place 
 In each true heart erected is 
 A shrine of peace on earth, 
 Good will to all. 
 
 The wolves of malice, hatred and envy 
 Are driven back into their lair. 
 Their snarls are hushed by songs 
 Of love, of peace and of affection, 
 Around all, above all, permeating all, 
 On this day ascend 
 To God's own home. 
 Paens tuned to that heavenly hymn 
 Which first heard in Bethlehem 
 Have for more than twenty centuries 
 Been the first and last lullaby 
 Listened to by all that's best 
 That's lived and died 
 Since dawn of time. 
 
 What matter, then, if other days may 
 
 come and go, 
 Each bringing in its train its joys or 
 
 woe? 
 
 This day, conceived by Deity, a child 
 was born; 
 
 The day belongs to Him, 'tis Christmas 
 morn. 
 
THE CRIMINAL CONVERT 
 
 There were ninety men in the sultry den 
 
 And never a man was free 
 As the night came down like a darken- 
 ing crown 
 
 And the storm king laughed with glee. 
 The Creek was there with his raven hair 
 
 And the Seminole so brave 
 The bold Choctaw and the Chickasaw 
 
 Were there in the living grave. 
 
 And the Cherokee from his smoked 
 tepee 
 With eyes of the fiercest glow 
 Would share his bed and divide his bread 
 
 With a son of Mexico. 
 And the black and white of equal might 
 
 Was herded there nor free, 
 And the night came down like a dismal 
 gown 
 While the storm king howled with 
 glee. 
 
 The silent guard 'bove the prison yard 
 Kept watch through the thick'ning 
 gloom 
 
A CRIMINAL CONVERT 13 
 
 In the tempest's splash and the light- 
 ning's flash 
 And the thunder's crash and boom. 
 While above the din in the den of sin 
 
 Like a call from a distant shore 
 Came the Parson's voice bidding all re- 
 joice 
 Tonight and forever more. 
 
 I am going to preach and I'll tiy to teach 
 
 To the ninety men in here 
 Of the words of love from the throne 
 above 
 
 (And his tones were loud and clear). 
 I preach to you of a Savior true 
 
 In a happy home on high, 
 Where the angels dwell, all saved from 
 hell, 
 
 And the righteous never die. 
 
 In my humble way I'm going to pray 
 
 To the Lord of Nazarene, 
 Your souls to save from a sinful grave, 
 f To wash you white and clean, 
 I'm going to pray in my humble way 
 
 A pardon for every sin, 
 And by His grace, ere I leave this place, 
 
 I hope some soul to win. 
 
14 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 And he prayed a prayer in the prison 
 there, 
 As the ninety bowed their heads 
 The bold Choctaw and the Chickasaw, 
 
 The whites, the blacks, the reds, 
 And the night was down like a leaden 
 crown 
 And the storm king howled with glee 
 While the Parson raised his voice and 
 praised 
 The King of Calvary. 
 
 He prayed for the chief with his unbe- 
 lief, 
 
 For the black highwayman bold, 
 For the robber, too, and his bandit crew, 
 
 For the criminals, young and old ; 
 For those who kill with a wanton will, 
 
 For those who steal by night, 
 For those who rape their lust to sate, 
 
 For the drunken ones who fight. 
 
 Oh, Father above, look down in love 
 
 On the ninety wretches here, 
 And may Thy grace, e'en in this place, 
 
 O'erwhelm their hearts with fear 
 And make them see it is only Thee 
 
 Can save their souls from hell. 
 Can wash their stain with Thy holy rain 
 
 And make them clean and well. 
 
A CRIMINAL CONVERT 15 
 
 Oh, make them see it is only Thee 
 
 Can bring them safely through. 
 Show them the way to eternal day, 
 
 To a better life and true. 
 Make them repent of the years misspent 
 
 And shield them with Thy love. 
 Oh, save each soul from the awful goal. 
 
 Hear thou me, God above. 
 
 Then he sang a hymn in the prison grim 
 
 He sang, "Turn, Sinners, Turn." 
 It's not too late to reach God's gate 
 
 While the lamp holds out to burn. 
 He'll welcome you with a welcome true, 
 
 The vilest here may come. 
 Oh, go with me to the Calvary, 
 
 To my Savior's heavenly home. 
 
 Repent ye all, hear the Savior's call. 
 
 He's bidding you return, 
 And while I stand give me your hand 
 
 And the blessed lesson learn. 
 Leave sin behind and glory find. 
 
 Tonight is the time to start. 
 There is no fear when the Lord is near; 
 
 He strengthens every heart. 
 
 Then from his bed, 'tween the black and 
 red, 
 Uprose an outlaw bold, 
 
16 A BOOK O' VERSE 
 
 With trembling step to the Parson crept, 
 
 All shivering as with cold, 
 And a vicious flash of the lightning's 
 crash 
 
 Showed his features pale and stern, 
 As he bowed his head and slowly said, 
 
 "I am resolved to turn." 
 
 "If I was free tonight," said he, 
 
 "Fd go to the little mound 
 Where sleeps my child in the mountain 
 wild 
 With the fern leaves all around, 
 And bow my head o'er my loved one 
 dead 
 And ask of the God on high 
 My soul to save from a crime-stained 
 grave, 
 In the happy bye and bye. 
 
 "By that sacred sod Fd pray to God 
 
 To forgive my every sin. 
 I am ready now to take the vow 
 
 And another life begin. 
 In the sight of all on the Lord I call 
 
 To wash my garments white. 
 With the cleansing blood of the crim- 
 son flood 
 
 I'll be baptized this night." 
 
A CRIMINAL CONVERT 17 
 
 In the lightning's glare of the prison 
 there 
 
 All the eighty-nine stood up 
 And the Parson said, as upon his head 
 
 He poured from an old tin cup, 
 "I baptize the with the Trinity, 
 
 With the Holy Ghost and Son, 
 In the name and love of God above, 
 
 And may their will be done." 
 
 And it seemed to me no one shall see 
 
 A scene so wierd, so grand, 
 As the white and red on their blanket 
 bed 
 
 'Round the Christian one did stand, 
 And the black man, too, and the bandit 
 crew 
 
 Looked on as the Parson cried, 
 "A soul is saved and the devil braved 
 
 By the little child that died." 
 
 Then stillness came and the storm and 
 rain 
 Passed on with the sighing wind. 
 The moon shone bright through a star- 
 lit night 
 And the world seemed good and kind, 
 While the night came down like a sil- 
 very crown 
 And a promise gave to all, 
 For the ninety men in the marshal's den 
 Heard only the Savior's call. 
 
18 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 DREAMS 
 
 The dreams that we dreamed in child- 
 hood, 
 
 In the dawn of our day of life, 
 As we played in the flowery wildwood 
 
 Away from the world of strif e — 
 Oh, these were the dreams of fairies 
 
 Of heavenly joy and love, 
 That come and go in the dusk light's 
 glow, 
 
 As sent from the throne above. 
 We dream of a loving mother, 
 
 Of the warm, red lips we kiss, 
 Caresses which almost smother 
 
 In ecstacy's sacred bliss, 
 Of loving songs so tender 
 
 In tones so sweet and low, 
 The evening hymn as the day grows 
 dim, 
 
 'Tis the dream of the long ago. 
 
 And then as the sun grows brighter 
 In the day of the passing years, 
 
 And the fleeting hours seem lighter, 
 For our first love's hope and fears, 
 
DREAMS 10 
 
 We dream of the blue eyes tender, 
 
 Of the cheeks with the peach blown 
 hue, 
 Of the shady nook and the blushing look 
 
 Of the maiden sweet and true. 
 We dream of the stolen meetings, 
 
 The clasp of the fluttering hand, 
 Of the summer evening's greetings, 
 
 Of curls like a golden strand; 
 Of notes with their folded corners, 
 
 Of the moonlight and the rose; 
 And these, it seems, are the sweetest 
 dreams 
 
 That a fleeting life e'er knows. 
 
 The dreams that we dream in manhood, 
 
 In the whirl of a busy life, 
 When the cup seems filled with worm- 
 wood, 
 
 When trouble and sin are rife; 
 Oh, these are the dreams of sorrow, 
 
 Of misery, pain and death; 
 And welcome the coming morrow 
 
 And hail to the shortening breath, 
 We dream of the cares and worry 
 
 Of the battle day by day; 
 Of the sickening haste and hurry; 
 
 Of the debts we can never pay ; 
 Of ruin so swift and certain; 
 
 Of poverty's keenest sting; 
 
20 A BOOK O' VERSE 
 
 Of the rushing wave and a nameless 
 grave, 
 And the dream is a hideous thing. 
 
 The dreams that come in the twilight 
 
 As the sun of life goes down, 
 When the only light is the skylight, 
 
 And the west is a burnished brown, 
 Oh, these are the dreams of sages, 
 
 The dreams of a home on high, 
 Of the races run and the prizes won 
 
 And the life in the bye and bye. 
 We dream of the heaven's glory, 
 
 Of a love that never dies, 
 Of the Son of God's life story, 
 
 Of She with the weeping eyes, 
 Of joy with the singing angels, 
 
 Where all is peace and rest, 
 And these we know as they come and go, 
 
 Of our dreams are best. 
 
MY SHRINE 
 
 In southern lands where dwell the sav- 
 age nations, 
 Where superstition rules and holds 
 full sway, 
 Where gods and devils all of man's cre- 
 ation 
 Reign absolute to whom the natives 
 pray, 
 The fiercest there will bow in supplica- 
 tion 
 To images of wood, of stone or clod, 
 And they alone feel worthy of salvation, 
 Invoking blessings of their favorite 
 god. 
 
 Where shines the midnight sun in faded 
 glory, 
 
 Where chilling shrieks the wind from 
 off the floes, 
 Where icy peaks seem battling grim and 
 hoary, 
 With nature's forces 'mid the Eternal 
 snows, 
 There, far from all that makes life worth 
 the living, 
 
22 
 
 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 Where foot of civilization ne'er has 
 trod, 
 Are countless ones to graven ivory giv- 
 ing 
 
 That worship Christians ever give to 
 God. 
 
 To bow in fevered prayer before some 
 altar, 
 To kneel with all that's best beneath 
 some shrine, 
 And thus to strengthen when we seem 
 to falter, 
 With aid from supernatural source di- 
 vine, 
 Has ever been throughout the countless 
 ages, 
 With every race since dawn of time 
 the way, 
 The youth, the man, the prophets and 
 the sages, 
 Of every land to deities must pray. 
 
 So like all else that hath a spirit given, 
 I worship where to me seems best of 
 all, 
 
 A happy home, to me my only Heaven, 
 A childish laugh to me an angel call, 
 
 A loving wife, my only inspiration, 
 
MY SHRINE 23 
 
 The loved ones growing 'neath my 
 
 vine and tree, 
 With these for creeds, for shrine and for 
 
 salvation, 
 I'll meet the end, whatever it may be. 
 
THE LAUGH OF A LITTLE CHILD 
 
 The song bird's note in the forest green 
 
 Seems touched by a wand divine, 
 The melody pure from the Woodland 
 Queen 
 
 With chords of my heart entwine, 
 And the music heard by the murmuring 
 sea, 
 
 Of the Song King free and wild, 
 Is sweet to my ear, but I'd rather hear 
 
 The laugh of a little child. 
 
 The laugh that comes with a burst of 
 joy 
 From the lips that ever smiled; 
 'Tis the sweetest tone I have ever 
 known, 
 The laugh of a little child. 
 
 The golden harp and its quivering 
 
 strings 
 
 With harmony fills the air, 
 And back to my memory quickly brings 
 
 The scenes that were bright and fair. 
 
THE LAUGH OF A LITTLE CHILD 25 
 
 The old love song that a maiden sang, 
 With a voice so low and mild 
 
 Was sweet to my ear, but I'd rather 
 hear 
 The laugh of a little child. 
 
 The laugh that flows like a limpid 
 stream, 
 
 From lips that are undefiled; 
 'Tis the sweetest tone I have ever known 
 
 The laugh of a little child. 
 
 And when in the evening of my life, 
 
 I know that the end is near; 
 The end of pleasure, joy or strife, 
 
 The end of hope or fear, 
 Where'er I be, on land or sea, 
 
 To the fates I am reconciled, 
 If somewhere near I can only hear 
 
 The laugh of a little child. 
 
 The laugh that seems like an angel song, 
 From a soul that is undefiled; 
 
 Tis the sweetest tone I have ever known, 
 The laugh of a little child. 
 
LIFE'S EBB AND FLOW 
 
 The lives of men like the restless tide 
 Must ebb and flow as the fates decree, 
 Some sink engulfed by the human sea, 
 Some high on the rolling crest will bide. 
 
 When the tide is full you need no friend 
 To ride on the silvery bright sea wave, 
 No need of a helping hand to save — 
 Life's pleasures seem to have no end. 
 
 Your ship will sail through the waters 
 
 deep 
 To the harbor of hope on the golden 
 
 shore, 
 Away from the breakers' sullen roar, 
 And a sharp lookout your crew will keep. 
 
 But changed is all when the ebbing tide 
 Flows out and the sea is lashed to foam, 
 And want and misery's hollow moan 
 With gaunt despair stalks side by side. 
 
 Then the reefs of the troubled sea of life 
 All strewn with wrecks of young and 
 old 
 
THE EBB AND FLOW 
 
 27 
 
 Show grim, and the heart is numb and 
 
 cold 
 With its ceaseless pain and deadly strife. 
 
 God pity the wrecks along the beach, 
 And save from the treacherous under- 
 tow 
 Their souls as they waver to and fro 
 Between Thy love and the Demon's 
 reach. 
 
 ***«r! 
 
A-BOOZIN' WITH THE BOYS 
 
 I don't see how a feller can be always 
 
 satisfied 
 To leave his lonesome wife a-settin' by 
 
 the fireside, 
 A-waitin' f er his comin' and afeard of 
 
 every noise, 
 And him up town carousin' 'round, 
 
 a-boozin' with the boys. 
 It seems to me I'd rather be a-settin 
 
 'round the fire, 
 Whar I could hear the young uns cheer 
 
 with all their hearts' desire; 
 A-watchin' of them playin' on the car- 
 pet with their toys; 
 I'd rather be a-doin this than boozin' 
 
 with the boys. 
 
 I don't see how a feller can fergit the 
 
 ones who wait 
 And watch the winder till the day has 
 
 darkened into night; 
 Or how he can forgit that, tho' the hour 
 
 is growing late, 
 
A-BOOZIN' WITH THE BOYS 29 
 
 The ones at home still love him, tho' he's 
 
 doin' what ain't right. 
 And when the time has come to put the 
 
 little uns to bed, 
 When all their romps are over and their 
 
 evenin' prayers are said, 
 It seems to me I'd rather be a witness 
 
 to such joys 
 Than up in town, carousin' 'round, 
 
 a-boozin' with the boys. 
 
 I don't see how a feller can fergit the 
 
 other days, 
 When first he wooed and won her who is 
 
 now his wedded wife; 
 When all he could remember was her 
 
 fascinatin' ways, 
 And every smile she gave him was a 
 
 sunbeam in his life; 
 It seems to me 'twould better be to think 
 
 of such as this, 
 And every day to pave her way to pleas- 
 ure with a kiss, 
 And when we could we always should 
 
 keep ad din' to her joys. 
 And let some other feller go out boozin' 
 
 with the boys. 
 
SILAS SAYS 
 
 I was to an evenin' party not so very 
 
 long ago, 
 VVhar the talent, wit and beauty seemed 
 
 to be out fer a show. 
 And the people of society war in their 
 
 elemint 
 When the folks thar got to talkin' 'bout 
 
 marriage sentiment. 
 A woman as was leader of the set in up- 
 per ten 
 Spoke of wives a lovin' husbands and of 
 
 husbands lovin' them, 
 And she ridiculed the idea, just as 
 
 though it couldn't be, 
 Savin' love whar folks war married was 
 
 to hear of, not to see. 
 
 She spoke of Abner Jinkins, who, as 
 
 everybody knows, 
 Is kind to all his neighbors and forgivin' 
 
 to his foes; 
 And she said she thought him silly, 
 
 couldn't see to save her life 
 How a man could be so simple as to say 
 
 he loved his wife. 
 
 Course the crowd all jined in with her, 
 and they ridiculed that man, 
 
SILAS SAYS 31 
 
 Saying he was soft and foolish, talkin' 
 
 as such people can, 
 And the words they used were bitter, 
 
 and they cut me like a knife, 
 When they spoke with scorn about him 
 
 jest because he loved his wife. 
 
 I went home and got to thinkm' 'bout 
 
 the words as they had used, 
 And I wondered how it feels to have a 
 
 heart so torn and bruished 
 That it never feels the passion that 
 
 brings happiness to life, 
 And makes a home a Heaven, whar a 
 
 husband loves his wife. 
 
 Not accordin' to our nature is it for us 
 
 so to speak, 
 And our herts must first be darkened 
 
 by some cursed unlucky streak, 
 And our lives must be embittered by the 
 
 sin of wordly strife, 
 Tore we say in public places that no 
 
 man should love his wife. 
 
 For myself thar's no such pleasure as 
 a lovin' woman brings. 
 
 The home of priceless treasure is whar 
 love and Cupid sings, 
 
 And I guess I'll quit society and spend 
 my future life, 
 
 Whar a man is true to nature, and a hus- 
 band loves his wife. 
 
IN BLUEST EYES 
 
 Thine eyes were the first to tell to me 
 The story that thy lips ne'er spoke ; 
 
 And in their bluest depths I see 
 
 The smouldering flame but now awoke 
 
 Thine eyes were first to tell to me 
 The secret that thy lips concealed, 
 
 And from thy soul I seemed to see 
 The faintest glimpse of love revealed. 
 
 Thine every word so well controlled 
 No tender passion e'er implies, 
 
 Yet, when I tell the story old, 
 
 The answer comes from out thine eyes 
 
 There, in the beacons of thy heart, 
 Untrained in language to deceive, 
 
 I see thee as thou really art; 
 I see the lovelight and believe. 
 
 And though thy lips shall e'er say — no, 
 And all thy form the truth deny, 
 
 Still, thou and I will ever know 
 The secret told me in thine eyes. 
 
 And when the time shall come to leave 
 When we have said the last good-byes, 
 
 Into my life with love I'll weave 
 The story of thy tell-tale eye r 
 
AT PARTING 
 
 I soon shall say good-bye, perhaps fare- 
 well ; 
 
 Soon look, perchance, the last time in 
 thine eyes — 
 
 Thine azure eyes wherein thy secrets 
 dwell — 
 
 And see thy soul, and all that in it lies. 
 
 And as I look I hope I there may see 
 A tender light they once before have 
 
 shown — 
 A light of joy — and may it ever be 
 A gleam of love for me, for me alone. 
 
 I do not care if this be right or wrong; 
 I do not care if it be good or bad ; 
 I do not care if it be weak or strong; 
 I do not care if it be sane or mad. 
 
 I only know I wish it from my heart; 
 
 I only know in this I am sincere, 
 
 That when the moment comes for us to 
 
 part 
 Thy soul at last shall speak, and mine 
 
 shall hear. 
 
WHERE GOD SMILED 
 
 Did you ever hear the call of the wild, 
 As you pegged away at the daily grind 
 With a heavy heart and a weary mind, 
 Your nerves strung up like a frightened 
 
 child- 
 Did you ever hear the call of the wild? 
 
 Did you ever hear the call of the stream 
 As you worked along in a ceaseless 
 
 strain, 
 With muscles taut and a fagged-out 
 brain 
 When life was a restless waking 
 
 dream — 
 Did you ever hear the call of the stream ? 
 
 Did you ever hear the call of the hills, 
 When the sun beat down and your 
 
 pulses throbbed, 
 And you knew your youth was being 
 robbed 
 By the city's hum and its vice and ills — 
 Did you ever hear the call of the hills ? 
 
WHERE GOD SMILED 35 
 
 Did you ever hear the call of the trees, 
 And the cry of the loon along the 
 
 creek, 
 The bark of the squirrel and the 
 whirring shriek 
 Of the quail and the murm'ring autumn 
 
 leaves — 
 Did you ever hear the call of the trees ? 
 
 All these I heard — and they called my 
 name 
 Thru the sun-baked streets and the 
 
 city's blare, 
 Mid the roar and rush of its stifling 
 air — 
 Go where I would, it was all the same; 
 I heard these calls, and in answer came ! 
 
 And here in the heart of nature wild 
 Is peace, content and joy and rest 
 And all that goes to make life blessed, 
 And over it all it seems God smiled, 
 Anr made me again a laughing child. 
 
I AM TULSA 
 
 I am Tulsa, 
 
 The city with a history, 
 The city with a vision, 
 And looking back along the yesterdays 
 I smile with pride for things accom- 
 plished. 
 The future I look into with fearless eye, 
 Content and confident, 
 For I am Tulsa, the unafraid. 
 
 I am Tulsa, 
 
 The patriotic city, 
 
 And ten thousand of my own 
 
 Red-blooded men 
 
 Have heard the nation's call, 
 
 Have heard and answered. 
 
 On all the Seven Seas, 
 
 Across No Man's Land 
 
 In Belgium, Italy and France 
 
 Are those who call me home, 
 
 And calling thus will soon return 
 
 To Tulsa. 
 
 I am Tulsa 
 
 And, where'er my sons may wander 
 
I AM TULSA 37 
 
 There is my name spoken, 
 
 And in pride they say it 
 
 As no other name is said. 
 
 And back to me not only 
 
 Will they come 
 
 When comes the righteous peace, 
 
 But each with him 
 
 Will bring another man to 
 
 Know and love his Tulsa. 
 
 I am Tulsa, 
 
 The mighty melting pot, 
 Where fused and blended 
 Are the Nation's best, 
 And where Aladdin's lamp 
 Has been outshone in splendor. 
 I am the home of culture, 
 Wealth and pleasure, 
 Of homes content and happy, 
 Of peace, prosperity, energy and ambi- 
 tion. 
 And to the cold, 
 The naked and the hungry, 
 Where'er the God of War 
 Holds sway, I give and give 
 And give again, for 
 I am generous Tulsa. 
 
 I am Tulsa. 
 
 My schools and churches 
 
38 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 Are my pride and joy. 
 To make every male 
 And female child 
 A noble man and woman, 
 That is my aim 
 And my ambition, 
 And ever I aim true 
 And do these things 
 I seek to do, 
 For I am Tulsa. 
 
 I am Tulsa, 
 
 The home of pioneer 
 
 And tenderfoot, 
 
 The Nation's mighty midway. 
 
 And here shall meet, shall 
 
 Mingle and shall mate 
 
 The Nation's best of 
 
 All that's best, 
 
 And o'er and o'er decades to come 
 
 My name shall be 
 
 On every tongue 
 
 And poet's pen 
 
 Be made to sing 
 
 The fame of unmatched Tulsa. 
 
SUNSET AT WESTPORT 
 
 The sun sinks down mid a spray of gold, 
 
 In its glittering bed 'neath the ocean 
 deep; 
 And the life of another day is told, 
 
 The life of all who sing or weep. 
 As the glimmering rays cross the wa- 
 ter's gleam, 
 
 Sparkle and glow, then slowly die, 
 The sad sea waves to the twilight seem 
 
 To murmur a fond farewell good-bye. 
 
 The evening's light with a darkening 
 shade 
 Flits over the water's golden hue, 
 And a bridal couch for the sun is made 
 In the distant depths of the ocean's 
 blue. 
 The silvery moon from the eastland's 
 glow, 
 The twinkling stars shine pure and 
 bright, 
 Through the fleecy clouds that come 
 and go, 
 And bathe the earth in their mellow 
 light. 
 
40 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 The song bird's note is hushed and still, 
 The moaning sea sings a sad farewell, 
 The towering pines on the rock-ribbed 
 hill 
 Nod a last goodnight to the flowery 
 dell; 
 Then the day is gone and the night is 
 here 
 With its rest from toil, with its slum- 
 ber hour, 
 And the heavens above seem doubly 
 near 
 As the night comes on in its mystic 
 power. 
 
COLUMBIA, WE HAVE ANSWERED 
 
 I. 
 
 We have heard your call, Columbia; 
 
 We have answered in our might 
 With ten million saying, "Present," 
 
 Lined up ready for the fight. 
 From the mills and mines we answered, 
 
 From the office, farm and banks, 
 We're ten million strong, Columbia, 
 
 And we're ready for the ranks. 
 
 II. 
 We have heard your call, Columbia, 
 
 And we come ten million strong; 
 We are girded for the battle 
 
 For the right against the wrong! 
 We will cross the seas, Columbia; 
 
 We will reach the Kaiser's lair, 
 And the Huns will feel the thunder 
 
 Of our guns, when we are there! 
 
 in. 
 
 We have heard your call, Columbia, 
 And with steel and shot and shell 
 
 We will sweep the German trenches 
 Til the yawning gates of hell 
 
42 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 Have received their own, Columbia — 
 Kaiser, Prince and Hussar, too, 
 
 Then the world will bow, Columbia, 
 In a prayer of thanks to you. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When comes peace to thee, Columbia — 
 
 Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men — 
 And the world shall be rebuilded, 
 
 We'll come home to thee; and then 
 You shall tell in song and story 
 
 How we heard, ten millions strong, 
 How we answered, how we battled; 
 
 How avenged the German wrong! 
 
 V. 
 
 We'll come back to thee, Columbia, 
 
 Back to home and fireside; 
 We'll come back to thee, the living — 
 
 Leaving those who there have died. 
 And the memory of the fallen 
 
 Will be blessed with smiling tears, 
 And the world be saved> Columbia, 
 
 Throughout all the coming years. 
 
ON THE RHINE 
 
 There's a new battle cry in the trenches, 
 
 There's a new flag afloat o'er the line, 
 
 And the hoarse cannon's roar is calling 
 
 for more, 
 
 Till Pershing shall give us the sign; 
 
 And then with the new flag to lead us 
 
 And our new battle star all ashine, 
 We will strangle the Hun till the vic- 
 tory's won, 
 When Pershing says, "On to the 
 Rhine." 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 So aloft with the Star-Spangled Banner, 
 Shout the new battle cry down the 
 line, 
 And the Huns in retreat we will crush in 
 defeat, 
 When Pershing says, "On to the 
 Rhine." 
 
 There's a new army now on the ocean, 
 There's a new army, too, in the sky. 
 They're headed for France with their 
 rifle and lance, 
 
44 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 All ready to fight and to die; 
 And under the folds of Old Glory, 
 
 We'll battle with courage divine — 
 We'll fight and we'll win to the gates of 
 Berlin, 
 When Pershing says, "On to the 
 Rhine. ,, 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Then up with the Star-Spangled Banner, 
 
 Send the new battle cry down the line, 
 
 For we'll crush in defeat all the Huns 
 
 we may meet, 
 
 When Pershing says, "On to the 
 
 Rhine." 
 
 JBBTHBRi 
 
TULSA'S FIGHTING ENGINEERS 
 
 Came ye home again to Tulsa 
 
 From the battlefields afar, 
 Came ye home again to loved ones 
 
 From the blood-stained land of war, 
 And our anxious days are over 
 
 As we cheer you through our tears. 
 Welcome home again, thrice welcome, 
 
 Tulsa's noble Engineers. 
 
 Came ye home again to Tulsa 
 
 From the scream of shot and shell, 
 Where the Kaiser and his minions 
 
 Made the world a blazing hell. 
 Where ye held aloft the banner 
 
 Of Columbia's hopes and fears, 
 Where ye added to its glory, 
 
 Tulsa's soldier Engineers. 
 
 Came ye home again our heroes 
 
 From the carnage o'er the sea, 
 Bringing back a nation's homage 
 
 And your flag of Victory; 
 And we meet ye and we greet ye 
 
 With a swelling heart and cheers, 
 May God bless and keep ye always, 
 
 Tulsa's fighting Engineers. 
 
THERE ARE OTHERS 
 
 If fortune smiles upon you and all is go- 
 ing well 
 
 And you have a nice deposit in the bank, 
 
 Don't look with scorn around you and 
 allow your head to swell, 
 
 For "you're not the only turtle in the 
 tank." 
 
 If the present holds no sadness and the 
 future, too, looks bright, 
 
 Your many friends have wealth and so- 
 cial rank, 
 
 Don't dissipate the gladness with a deed 
 that is not right, 
 
 For "you're not the only turtle in the 
 tank." 
 
 When existence seems completed, from 
 
 the loving cup you quaff 
 Life's elixir — sweetest nectar ever 
 
 drank — 
 'Tis not best to get conceited and at 
 
 misfortune laugh, 
 For "you're not the only turtle in the 
 
 tank." 
 
THERE ARE OTHERS 47 
 
 It may be on the morrow when the 
 
 wheel of fortune turns, 
 Your happy life will be a dreary blank; 
 Your joys have turned to sorrow with a 
 
 misery that burns, 
 Still "you're not the only turtle in the 
 
 tank." 
 
 Let us try to help each other as we 
 journey through this life, 
 
 And when we near the river's mystic 
 bank 
 
 Try our selfishness to smother, put 
 aside all petty strife, 
 
 For we all alike "are turtles in the tank." 
 
 In the end we all are equal, when we're 
 
 laid away to rest — 
 The millionaire, the pauper and the 
 
 crank. 
 A little mound's the sequel of the vilest 
 
 and the best ; 
 Death claims alike all "turtles in the 
 
 tank." 
 
THE MIND 
 
 What though you imprison my body, 
 
 The flesh and the blood and the bone, 
 In dungeons, and wrack it and tear it 
 
 And grind it on grating and stone, 
 And scar it with curses and lashes, 
 
 Then seek some new torture to find, 
 I'll laugh at my own crimson splashes, 
 
 For you cannot imprison my mind. 
 
 My body may go where you send it 
 
 And wither and rot and decay 
 'Mong the scum of the earth who are 
 sentenced 
 
 For life — be it years or a day. 
 All accursed in the chains you may rivet, 
 
 E'en there will be the fates yet be 
 kind. 
 My thoughts are my life as I live it, 
 
 And you cannot imprison my mind. 
 
TO JUDGE H. T. 
 
 Snow-crowned, as firm as rugged moun- 
 tains are, 
 With scales of justice balanced to de- 
 cide, 
 No eloquence of "Orator at Bar" 
 Can make the wrong the right to 
 override. 
 You there with knowledge ruling in your 
 brain, 
 On judgment sit for pauper and for 
 peer, 
 The fountains of the source of law to 
 drain, 
 Then render justice, tinctured not 
 with fear. 
 
 Could others, who will follow in your 
 way, 
 Be made to know what animates your 
 heart, 
 Dawn then would come for that oft- 
 hoped for day 
 When prejudice from justice will de- 
 part. 
 
50 A BOOK 0' VERSE 
 
 The law will be respected, and the bench 
 Attain the place designed in days of 
 old, 
 Freed from contamination and the 
 stench 
 
 Of judgments purchased with unholy 
 gold. 
 
 Long may you live and long the ermine 
 wear; 
 Long may you hold the scales of Jus- 
 tice blind; 
 Long may you be in envy's fiercest 
 glare, 
 JUST as you are, and fearless, true 
 and kind. 
 Then, when the summons comes for you 
 to go 
 To join the shades of Blackstone and 
 of Kent, 
 Your name will live and with the ages 
 grow, 
 
 For you, as they indeed, are Heaven- 
 sent. 
 
THE CHANGE 
 
 The skies will not always be cloudy, 
 The rain cannot fall all the time, 
 
 The dull leaden gray of the long gloomy 
 day 
 
 Must make way after while for sunshine 
 
 The coal moaning winds of the Winter, 
 The frost and the ice and the snow 
 
 Will leave afterwhile and the Spring- 
 time's glad smile 
 Blot out all the chill with its glow. 
 
 Then the roses will bloom in their beauty 
 And the daisies peep forth in the dell, 
 And the violets blue in their silken dress 
 new 
 Deck the homes where our loving ones 
 dwell. 
 The air will be filled with sweet music, 
 The murmuring breath of the breeze 
 Will sing a love song of a love that is 
 strong, 
 Of happiness, joy and of ease. 
 
THE DAWN 
 
 November 16, 1907 
 
 There is a new light in the east. The 
 brightest day in all the history of the 
 Red Man's land has dawned. From out 
 the skies of the receding night a band of 
 hardy pioneers, builders of an empire, 
 have plucked the brightest star and 
 with brave hands and patriotic hearts, 
 pinned it to the azure field of Old Glory, 
 adding a new lustre to the Nation's flag. 
 
 In imperishable letters a new name 
 has been inscribed upon the banner of 
 freedom — a name synonymous with suc- 
 cess, with beauty, grandeur, patriotism, 
 fidelity, prosperity, loyalty and love of 
 home; a name crooned as a lullaby in 
 bygone days when, sitting in the twi- 
 light of the boundless prairies, the In- 
 dian mother from her tepee watched 
 the shadows lengthen into night and put 
 her little ones to sleep; a name inter- 
 woven in the matchless history of mar- 
 velous things accomplished by those 
 who dared to put their blood and brain 
 
THE DAWN 53 
 
 and brawn into the contest and win a 
 victory where defeat seemed most cer- 
 tain ; a name now heard along the arter- 
 ies of commerce, in the busy marts of 
 trade and wherever beats the Nation's 
 throbbing heart of industry: OKLA- 
 HOMA. 
 
 But, yesterday, we were a million and 
 a half of political orphans, misunder- 
 stood, misgoverned and mistreated. To- 
 day we stand erect, clothed with the 
 full panoply of American citizenship, in 
 all things the equal in fact as well as in 
 name, of the proudest people of the Na- 
 tion. But yesterday, to all the other 
 state we were strangers. Today we 
 have entered into our inheritance and 
 wear upon our brow the full-flowered 
 wreath of American manhood and take 
 our place in Columbia's household as 
 the most favored of all of the Nation's 
 children. But yesterday, the long- 
 range government by appointment, by 
 telegraph and by misinformation was 
 the rule. Today we begin a new era with 
 the ideal government of the immortal 
 Lincoln, a government of the people, for 
 the people and by the people. Looking 
 down the darkeneing shadows of the 
 past, with its obstructions to advance- 
 
54 
 
 A BOOK O' VERSE 
 
 ment swept aside by the energy, de- 
 termination and ambition of our people, 
 we turn with confidence to the future, 
 secure in the belief that tomorrow will 
 bring to us but additional triumphs in 
 life's battle. In this hour of our eman- 
 cipation, when paens of joy are ascend- 
 ing throughout the land, when the 
 clang of the political shackles falling 
 from the arms of freemen makes won- 
 drous music for the patriots who fought 
 in freedom's cause, it is but meet that 
 we should pause and give to those who 
 led the van a fervent "God bless you," 
 and tell them they have builded better 
 than they knew in giving to posterity 
 the greatest commonwealth the Nation 
 ever welcomed into the sisterhood of 
 states. 
 
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