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Newspaper Page Text
0) Coconino Sun.
Vol. XV. FLAGSTAFF, OCTOBKK l.'i, 180S. No. :(. Lover's Lane. Summah night an' slghln' breeze. 'Long do lotah's lane; Krlen'ly, shadder-mckln' trees, 'Long lie lovah's lane. White oiks' wo'k all done up gran' Me an' 'Mandy han'-ln-han' .struttln' lak we owned de Ian'. Lotig de lot nil's lane. Owl n-seltln' 'side ile road, 'IjOiig de lotah's lane, Iookln ut us lak he knotted Dls uz lotah's lane. Go on, hoot yo" mo'nful tunc. Yo' aln' nevah lotcd In June, An' eome hldln' f oin de moon Down In lot ah's lane. Hush it lion' an noil nn' swav. Down In lotah's lane. Try'n' to hyenh me wbut I say Long de lovah's lane. Hut I whlspahs low lak dls. An' my 'Mandy smile huh bliss Mlstah Hush he slick his lis'. Down de lovah's lane. What I keeref day la long, Down In lovah's lane, I kin alius sink' u song, 'Look de lovah's lane. An' de wo'ds I Iiteuh au' say Meks up fu' de te.irv daj Wen 1 's strollln' liv de wu, Down In lotah's lane. An' dls fought "111 ullus ll e Down In lovah's lane: Woiulah whethuh In de skies Uey 'h a lorah'H lane. Kf dey ain't. I tell you true. 'Llglon do look mighty blue, 'Cause I do" know whut I'll do pout a lovah's lane. Paul Laurence Dunbar. The wells of the sunrise barken, They wait for a jear and ndav; Only the calm, sure thrushes Fluting the world awuv' For the husk of life Is sorrow; Hut the kernels of joy remain. Teeming and blind and eternal As the hill wind or the rain. A Sonc of Pie. Oh, sing of the close where the pie plant grows In luxuriance wild and fro'. And pumpkin pies of monstrous size Han,? ripe on the pumpkin tree; Where the "lemon-cream" like a fresh baked dream Olovs white In the noon-day glare. And the "custards" cold, with their hearts of (told, Sheil fragrance on the air. Oh, sing of the land where the mince trees stand With their branches spreading wide. And laden low with nuts of dougb And wondrous things lnsid( Kich remnantsof the foods we love When In their proper sphere; Heefsteaks and stew and things we knew In cornbeef hash last )ear. Oh, sing of u time in a happy clime When the pie tree's fruit shall fall With ease and grace In the open face At no expense at all: Ah, then Indeed will the heartless greed Of the lunchroom keeper fail. And our tongues will spurn mince pies that burn And crusts that make us wall. -Chicago KernnL October. Hul brown comes the autumn, and -ar grows the corn. And the woods like a rainbow are IreMd. And but for the cock and the noontide liorn. Old Time would be tempted to rest. The humming bee fans off a shower of gold From the mullein's long rod as It sways. And dry grows the leaves which protecting in fold. The ears of the well-ripened maize. Atlength Indian Bummer the lotely.doth come. With its blue frosty nights, and days still. When distantly sounds the ttrterfull's bum. And the sun smokes ablaze on the hill! A dim ell hangs over the landscape mid Hood And the hills are all mellowed In haze. While Kail, creeping on like u monk "neath his hood. Plucks the thlrk-rustllng wi ch of the maize Whltller.