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s fy Coconino Sun. r VOL. XV. FLAGSTAFF, NOVKMHKK lit, 1898. No. 4H. Tbcre Is No Death. (A fucithe poem that many authors claim.) There Is noilcaih' The Mars .' down To rlsu upon Mime fairer shore. Ami bright In heaven's Jeweled crown They shine forevennorc. There U no death' The dust we tiead Slull chaiue beneath the summer showers. To golden k-niln or mullnw Iikii Or ralnliow tinted flowers. The granite rocks disorganize To feed the hunzry iim they lx-ur. The forest leaves drink dully life. Prom Mit thu viewless air. There Is no death The leaves may fall. The (lowers fade ami pas.awav -They only wall through wintry hours The coming of the XInv. Tacre 1 no death ' An Angel form , Walks o'er the earth w Ith silent tread: llu tivniN our lieu lieloted things awa. And then we call them "dead" lie lcavei our heart nil desolate: He plucks our fairest. sweetest lljner. Transplanted Into tills' thev now Adorn lminort.il Uiwer. The III nl-1 Ike voire, w hi ie ji iotis tones Made clad this Men" of sin and strife. Sinus now hercverlastitu soius Amid the Tree of Life. And when lie sect u smile t m bright Or heart too pare for taint of v lev. lie liears It to the world of ll.'hl. To rtw 11 In ruraillsp Horn unto that undjln life. They leave us hut to eonie u.'aln: With Joy wo wel.-ome fieii -thi s.im . Kxreptinslniiul ptln. And ever near us. though unseen. The denr Immortal spirits Irejil: For nil the Imundless universe Is life- there lire no Dead' Thi! Autumn dajs soak sentiment All through the poet's soul: ' vi'hii.t huvnr minds are eke intent V On flannels and cm eoal. lm'l.lli:tt My The Town of Moiood. friend, hate you heard of the town of Xngood. On the hanks of the river Mow. Where blooms the Wnltawhile How er fair. Where the Sometimeorother scents the ulr And the soft (loeasys grow I It lie In the inlley of Whatstbeuv. In the province of Leterslide. That'tlredfeellng Is native there. It's the home of the reckless Idontcnre, Where the (Jlteltups abide. It stamN at the bottom of Lazy hill ' And ls-sy to reach, I declare, Vou't e only to fold up your bands and glide Down the slope of Weakv llle's tntioggan slide To In- landeil quickly there. The tow n Is at old as the human race. And It irrows with the flight of years. Ills wrapped In the fog of Idlers' dreams. It's streets are paved with discarded schemes And sprinkled with useless tears. The I'ollegebredfnol and the Hlcbmens' heir . Arc nlcntlf ul there, no doubt. The rest of Its crowd arc n motley crew. With every class except one In view -The KoolkllleHs barred out. The town of Nngnod is all hedged iilmi'.l llv the mountjitvs of Despair. No sentinel ilunds nulls gloomy walls. No trumpet to battle and triumph mils KorcowardsaliHie are there. Mj frlcad, fm the dewlullie town N'u.n-no' If ou would kecpf.ir anaj. Just follow our duty throiitrh good nnd IIS. Tnkt lhl for jiiurmoltii "I can, 1 will.' And live ..!.. It ra.'h da". y y Other Dancers. Thc.v hid us pause-arid think again As Hem1 complaints Increase The.e perils whlih surround us vlni. We'r on the verge or peace. Wii'hlniiH'U Mar. ( Thus .pake the teacher to hl class. Now. tell m. what are pauses" And the small Iniy at the foot replied. Thev n'llilm.'s to bid" iiils' claw ses." il'Jllc.UM-Neus. mlw.Iiiiiri il J S.