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n Song 0* Cbe Ofest 
 
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 :OPYRIGHT ,9,0 BY ESTELLE WALLACE PARIS 
 

 ©CI.A27.S9'..)G 
 

 
 n Song C the (Ue$f 
 
 THE land of the west Is the land for me, 
 
 Where the sweet pine smell from the tall pine tree 
 Floats on the soft air, salt from the sea. 
 
 Where the mountain streamlets, icy cold 
 Leap down mountains, bursting bold 
 Thru gorge and canyon centuries old. 
 
 Where the forests stretch in endless tracts 
 And the rythmic ring of the woodman's axe 
 Blends with the roar of tha cataracts. 
 
 O, the land o' the west is the land for me 
 Where life is abundant, and full and free, 
 And a man may be what he wills to be. 
 
 And many a man with a wounded heart 
 Poisoned and hurt by the world's keen dart 
 Finds the impulse here for a fresh clean start. 
 
 For there's hope in the air and hope on the breeze. 
 And promise in every bud on the trees. 
 Promise and hope, and more than these. 
 
 Here a man must think and a man must feel 
 For the wildness woos with a strange appeal, 
 God's handiwork Divine and Real. 
 
$ 
 
 Cbe Indian 
 
 ILENT and morose is he 
 
 And on hii broad, dark face 
 There rests a grim and listless look 
 Of a proud and conquered race. 
 
 The hands that once were wont to grasp 
 
 The tomahawk and knife 
 And seek with cunning stealth to take 
 
 The intruding white man's life, 
 
 Now old'have grown and lost thier strength; 
 "■ Alone, he sits and dreams 
 Of brave and teepee, war and dance, 
 Of sparkling lakes and streams; 
 
 Of mile on mile of forest land. 
 Among whose depths at will, 
 
 The wild game roamed — the bear and deer- 
 Then his to hunt and kill. 
 
 (Condnued) 
 
As memories av/oke there came 
 
 Into his faded eye 
 A gleam of pride. His skill had won 
 
 A Dame in days gone by. 
 
 When out upon the purple plains, 
 
 The gallant buffalo 
 Fell beneath the unerring aim 
 
 Of his deadly dart and bow. 
 
 For who could lend a farther dart, 
 Or one more true than he ? 
 
 Wisest and bravest of his tnbe 
 Was he not known to be ':* 
 
 Ah, sweet those days, but past and gone. 
 
 F ew of his tribe remain, 
 And into his sullen, somber eyes 
 
 Crept bzkck a calm disdain. 
 
 No more the war paint might adorn 
 His swarthy cheek and brow. 
 
 The land the Redman loved so long 
 It ruled by white man now. 
 
m 
 
 my Dream l)Oine 
 
 Y DREAM HOME lies in a sheltered nook 
 Where the sea breeze finds its way, 
 Where the giant fern and evergreen 
 Hold undiiputed sway. 
 
 o o 
 
 Its sweeping lines are broad and low, 
 And the casements open wide 
 
 To let the warmth and sunshine in, 
 Where my Love and I abide. 
 
 O O 
 
 The roses grow by the garden walk 
 
 Ah, roses are everywhere, 
 Clambering high o'er roof and bower 
 
 A glory of color fair. 
 
 O O 
 
 Ah, roses and love and sunshine. 
 Are the summer's happy dower. 
 
 The yellowed leaf and the berry. 
 For the Autumn's golden hour. 
 
 o o 
 
 -But listen ! The Winter's coming! 
 
 Shut fa»t the casement door! 
 Let the pine logs burn and snap and crack 
 
 To drown the breakers' roar! 
 
 o o 
 
 And it seems, as the glad sweet warmth 
 Steals thru the shadowed room 
 
 It quiets our senses and hearts 
 
 Like the breath of a deep perfume. 
 
 o o 
 
 With our cares shut out in the darkness 
 There's love and content ir.side, 
 
 And a boundless peace in this dream home 
 Where my Love and I abide. 
 
n 
 
 Our Vestcrdays 
 
 H, the time slips by. Each setting sun 
 Adds to our yesterdays, one by one 
 
 That long, thin, wavering line of day 
 Stretching back thru the mystic haz 
 
 Of the Shadowy Patt — so dim and pale 
 Like pallid ghosts beneath a veil. 
 
 With now and then a day in red 
 
 To mark perhaps some dread blood shed 
 
 Or deed or strife or struggle bold. 
 And here and there a day in gold 
 
 Glowing and Ainirfl, — a signal light 
 To guide our memories to some fight 
 Where Wrong was overcome by Right. 
 
 But what is this ? *Can this be mine- 
 This slender portion of the line ? 
 
 Ah yes, that small ghost, shivoring, gray 
 Marks my wintry first birthday. 
 
 (Continued} 
 
But where, oh where are my days of gold 7 
 My line looks weak, and blue, and cold. 
 
 Have I refused to love and aid 
 The stricken at my doorstep laid ? 
 
 Have I withheld the "widow's mite" 
 Which should have gained one signal light ? 
 
 Have I buried the talent the Master gave 
 And endangered the soul His Son would save ? 
 
 Ah, woe is me ! What shall I say 
 
 When account is made of each Yesterday ? 
 
 O O 
 
 What shall I render the Giver of Good 
 For His love and care ? O God, if I could 
 
 But reed«em in a measure the wrong I've done. 
 And send my days with each setting sun, 
 
 Into the Past, with a golden hue 
 
 To glow and shine the long years thru, 
 
 Lights to Thine everlasting praise — 
 In the long thin line of Yesterdays. 
 
Olestern Cand 
 
 T T is to Thee, O Western Land 
 ■ That God hath dealt with generous hand 
 The Maker of Heaven and Earth and Air, 
 Giving thy portion, knew not to spare 
 The richest of soil, gave he to thee. 
 So wondrous in its fertility. 
 The densest of woods, the fairest plains. 
 The broadest of streams, the softest rains, 
 The ore-choked mountains stretching high 
 Their snow-capped summits to the sky. 
 Ah, who can say what the land may hold 
 For Builder of Country or Getter of Gold? 
 Resource and power beyond our dreams 
 Are here to grapple with Brain and Schemes 
 Latent for ages awake at last ! 
 Thy Future assured, thy slumbers past ! 
 
Ulbeti Cove eontes Tn 
 
 m 
 
 HEN Love comes into this life of ours, 
 With its m-illow, softening art, 
 It thrills and w*rms with a touch divine 
 And builds for itself a golden shrine 
 In the depths of every heart. 
 
 o o 
 Upon this shrine sits Love enthroned, 
 
 And rules with gracious sway 
 Our inmost thots, our words or deeds. 
 Our every impulse, desires or needs. 
 
 Forever and ever and aye. 
 
 .00 
 
 All willing subjects — every one 
 
 We bow before her eyes 
 
 Ashamed to think or reel or do 
 A thing that Love declares untrue 
 To the best that in us lies. 
 
 00 
 Love puts a smile upon our lips 
 
 And in our hearts a song; 
 A song of thanks to God above 
 For giving us this wondrous love 
 
 So tender and so strong. 
 
 Love bids us kindly deal with him 
 
 Whom sin has led astray. 
 Whose walk thru life has ever known 
 A path more rugged than our own 
 
 With fewer roses by the way. 
 
 00 
 And when our storm of grief is come, 
 
 Its shadow overcast. 
 So tenderly as with a child, 
 Love soothes with Love the tempest wild 
 
 Until the clouds are passed. 
 
Jlutumn 
 
 OIT'S now*8 the time of year ! like the best, 
 When things seem 8orta settling down to rest, 
 And breathe a spell before the Fail sets in, 
 
 And frost and cold their winter's work begin, 
 o O 
 
 TTie first dead locust leaves have drifted down, 
 
 The maple trees are turning red and brown. 
 
 And Nature everywhere in colors bold 
 
 Is changing Summer's green for Autumn's gold. 
 
 o o 
 The soft wind thru the com tops rustles low, 
 Between the rows the glowing pumpkins glow. 
 With hints of pies and all the tempting things 
 That every glad Thanksgiving season brings. 
 
 O O 
 Each season with a charm hath been endowed; 
 The Winter with its white low-hanging cloud. 
 That wraps the distant hills and vales below 
 In a winter cloak of softly gleaming snow. 
 
 O O 
 Tlie Spring when all the bursting buds and roots 
 In eager clamorous haste put forth their shoots, 
 And from the cold, hard earth come peeping up, 
 With here a violet — there a buttercup. 
 
 O O 
 And Summer next with skies of azure blue. 
 And fragrant roses smiling back at you. 
 The mellow sunshine, and the deep cool shade — 
 The time when fervent bridal vov/s are made. 
 
 O O 
 Ah, each is vibrant with a charm its own 
 And yet to me the Autumn months alone 
 Invites a peaceful rest to tired souls 
 Like calm still waters after storm and shoals. 
 
 O o 
 For like a dream a golden memory 
 Comes drifting from that Autumn down to me. 
 Ah, none but golden thots those years unfold 
 And none but golden hopes my future holds. 
 
Ck ttlilful mtt 
 
 POUTING lips and downcast eye. 
 Hurled feelings ! My, O my ! 
 But there, you know she's only hoaxing 
 What she wants is love and coaxing, 
 A single tribute to her pride, 
 A honied flatter, bravely lied. 
 
 Pouting lips and downcast eye, 
 Hurted feelings! My, Omy! 
 She'll acknowledge no command. 
 She will brook no rough demand.- 
 But — in whispers I confess 
 That a single, soft caress 
 Wins her over, right or wrong — 
 She had meant to all along. 
 
Jin €cbo 
 
 
 
 FT times there swells within my heart 
 
 A song which thrills me thru and thru; 
 And yet alas, I lack the art 
 To put into words for you. 
 
 I cannot tell from whence it springs, 
 'Tis more than merely rythmic sound; 
 
 Perchance the song Love only sings 
 An echo in my heart hath found. 
 
 I only know it comes to me 
 With now the carol of a bird; 
 
 Again within its melody 
 
 The whisperings of a prayer I've heard. 
 O O 
 
 And so I can but grateful be — 
 That out of all the waiting throng 
 
 Love has chosen unworthy me 
 To keep the echo of her song. 
 
Tbe everyday Cife 
 
 X 
 
 IS not what we do so often, 
 
 As the way in which things are done. 
 That counts in the help we give others. 
 And friendships are lost or won. 
 
 *Tis not what we say so often, 
 As the tone which we employ — 
 
 Which brings to the face of loved ones 
 A look of pain or of joy. 
 
 O, then let me be more careful 
 
 Of my manner in speech and deed, 
 
 And be just a little bit gentler 
 In the every-day life I lead. 
 
I)0pe 
 
 C 
 
 HERE are hopes we dare not utter, 
 There are thots we cannot tell, 
 And in the heart a-flutter. 
 Rosy dreams forever dwell. 
 
 The the daily life expresses 
 
 Naught but commonplace and bald; 
 Tho the cherished soul-recesses 
 
 Thickly 'round about are walled. 
 
 Still within the heart existing. 
 Like a flower shadow-grown; 
 
 Fragile lives the hope persisting. 
 We may come into our own. 
 
c 
 
 nigbf and Day 
 
 HE night is for dreams, when the stars come out 
 One by one in the purple dome, 
 And the moon's slim crescent threads her way, 
 Thru the night clouds fleecy foam. 
 
 The night is for dreams — dreams of youth and love, 
 
 And the building of castles bright; 
 For the plighting of vows, and a lover's kiss. 
 
 For laughter, and music, and light. 
 
 The day is for work, when the sun comes up 
 From his bed in the mystic East, 
 
 For the toil of hands nnd the sweat of brow. 
 For the labor of man and beast. 
 
 The day is for work with the mind and soul. 
 For hearty good will and cheer, 
 
 And strong, sturdy blows at the barriers. Fate 
 Has placed in our pathway here. 
 
 So night and day, tho like world's apart. 
 Have each their own place in life. 
 
 And thru it all, Love, like a magic drop 
 Ennobles and sweetens the strife. 
 
my Prayer 
 
 TONLY ask thru years to come 
 That thou wouldst be 
 Just near to me. 
 The glamour of wealth may be for some- 
 But for my lot 
 Some quiet spot 
 That we can love and call our home. 
 
 I only ask that thou wouldst pour 
 
 Into my ears 
 
 Thru all the years, 
 Thy love avowals o'er and o'er; 
 
 Ah, just to know 
 
 Thru weal or woe. 
 Thou dost but love me yet the more. 
 
 I only ask — I ask and pray — 
 
 That I in turn 
 
 My blessings earn 
 By giving freely, day by day 
 
 From out my share 
 
 Of love, a care 
 For those unloved ones by the way. 
 
m 
 
 Rain and $un 
 
 HAT tho the rain drops beat and beat, 
 Aslant 'gainst my window pane, 
 And with anxiou* eyes 1 search the skies 
 For a bit of blue in vaia. 
 
 What tho the plans of today are spoiled, 
 And the things I meant to do 
 
 Must go undone, till another sun 
 Shines out from a smiling blue. 
 
 If the day be bleak without my door 
 
 Then all the more reason I 
 Must smile and be gay and charm away 
 The blue imps that hover nigh. 
 
 What tho the storms of doubt do beat 
 With a force I cannot shun,- 
 
 And I know not what may be my lot 
 With tomorrow's setting sun. 
 
 If my soul is sick with heavy dread, 
 
 Then all the more reason I, 
 With a smiling cheer must hide the fear 
 
 That deep in my heart doth lie. 
 
 For the Power that rules the rain and sun 
 
 Is a Power Omnipotent, 
 And every care that is mine to bear 
 
 For ray ovm best good is sent. 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
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