st of mankind, not doomed to die.
To him thus Gabriel: "Sir, I pray
This mystery you'll clear away.
Why do I sound my note in vain?
Why spring they not from out the plain?
Where's Luning, Blythe and Michael Reese,
Magee, who ran the _Golden Fleece?_
Where's Asa Fisk? Jim Phelan, who
Was thought to know a thing or two
Of land which rose but never sank?
Where's Con O'Conor of the Bank,
And all who consecrated lands
Of old by laying on of hands?
I ask of them because their worth
Was known in all they wished--the earth.
Brisk boomers once, alert and wise,
Why don't they rise, why don't they rise?"
The man replied: "Reburied long
With others of the shrouded throng
In San Mateo--carted there
And dumped promiscuous, anywhere,
In holes and trenches--all misfits--
Mixed up with one another's bits:
One's back-bone with another's shin,
A third one's skull with a fourth one's grin--
Your eye was never, never fixed
Upon a company so mixed!
Go now among them there and blow:
'Twill be as good as any show
To see them, when they hear the tones,
Compiling one another's bones!
But here 'tis vain to sound and wait:
Naught rises here but real estate.
I own it all and shan't disgorge.
Don't know me? I am Henry George."

ARBOR DAY

Hasten, children, black and white--
Celebrate the yearly rite.
Every pupil plant a tree:
It will grow some day to be
Big and strong enough to bear
A School Director hanging there.

THE PIUTE

Unbeautiful is the Piute!
Howe'er bedecked with bravery,
His person is unsavory--
Of soap he's destitute.

He multiplies upon the earth
In spite of all admonishing;
All censure his astonishing
And versatile unworth.

Upon the Reservation wide
We give for his inhabiting
He goes a-jackass rabbiting
To furnish his inside.

The hopper singing in the grass
He seizes with avidity:
He loves its tart acidity,
And gobbles all that pass.

He penetrates the spider's veil,
Industriously pillages
The toads' defenseless villages,
And shadows home the snail.

He lightly runs to earth the quaint
Red worm and, deftly troweling,
He makes it with his boweling
Familiarly acquaint.

He tracks the pine-nut to its lair,
Surrounds it with celerity,
Regards it with asperity--
Smiles, and it isn't there!

I wish he'd open up a grin
Of adequate vivacity
And carrying capacity
To take his Agent in.

FAME

He held a book in his knotty paws,
And it