The Irish standard., 1916-03-11

glanced through the printed lines
Then he read them through again.
THE PURPLE CITY.
As sat munching mangoes.
On the purple city's walls,
heard the catfish calling,
To the crawfish in the crawls.
saw the paper sunbeams,
Sprouting from the painted sun;
saw the sun was sullen,
For the day had but begun.
OF dusty desert sky-road.
Ten thousand miles and more,
Stretched out before the morning,
And the sun sat in the door.
He sWeated seas Of sunshine,
AS he started up the sky,
And he drowned the purple city,
In tear-drop from his eye,
No more shall purple pansies
Look up at purple pinks,
Nor purple roses rival,
The cheeks of purple mink.
Alas! for purple city,
And its purple-peopled halls!
Alas! for me and mangoes,
On the purple city's walls!
Gerry looked upon his guest with
new wonder as he handed back the
clipping. Kemp put it away carefully,
rolled fresh cigarette. and blew a
thick puff of smoke out into the moon
light. Cant say it's po'try and l
can't say it amt. All 1 know is it
roped me. I know that writer Teller
never munched no mangoes, cause
manages don't MUNICH. l know he nev-
er sat on no wall an heerd catfish call
In cause catfish don't call. But he
seen 1t all, stranger, jest the way he
writ it down an ben dreamin' pu'ple
cities ever sence read his screed."
Ibid you start right out to look for
them?" asked Gerry gravely.
"Naw," said Kemp, II didn't have
pothin' to go on. But one day a drum
mer Teller tibet was stagin' across
the White mountains give me plant
magazine, and it had an article on
commercial orchids with pictures in
colors. They was mostly kinder
publish an l reckon it was toat what
got me started. 1t was the foreman
pointin' out my mount to me an' l
didn't lose no time. drapped my rope
on him an I've been ridin' him ever
sence."
Found any purple cities?"
mot rightly. l seen 'em-more'n
once. But l guess purple cities is al
ways yon side the mountain. You
can't jest ride up an put your brand
on 'em. They're born mavericks and
they die mavericks. An say, good
luck to 'em." Kemp rose, tossed away
his cigarette end and stood leaning
with crooked elbow and knee against
a veranda pillar. His keen aquilne
features and deep-set eyes were lit up
by the moonlight and seemed scarcely
to belong to his great, loose-jointed
frame. He was loose-jointed but like
a 9ail-strong and tough. "There's
one thing about the purple cities" be
added, "the daylight always beats you
to 'em jest like in the POM" He
turned and went off to bed.
Gerry sat on in the moonlight seized
by strange sadness-the sadness the
spirit feels under the troubled hover
ing of the unattainable and the mi
rage. Life had queer turns. Why
should cowboy start out to look for
purple cities? 1t was grotesque on the
face of it but, beneath the face of it.
1t was not grotesque.
Margarita stole out to seat herself
beside him. She slipped her hand into
his. She was worried. She was al
ways worried when Gerry's thoughts
were far away. "The Man." she said,
for thus she had christened her baby
boy from the day Of his birth, 1.-The
Man sleeps. He cried for thee and
thou didst not come. So he slept. for
he is a man."
Gerry's thoughts came back to his
little kingdom. He sighed and then
he smiled a smile Of content. 1T is
late then, my flower?" He put bis
arm around her. "Let US 60 to bed,
for tomorrow there is work."
Tomorrow there is always work, "
said Margarita. II am not afraid of
work, Geree. The end of work never
comes. It is the things that end that
make me afraid" She, too, had felt
the futtering wings of the unattain.
able. Unknowing1y she stood beneath
the shadow of the strangers purple
city's walls.
The next day Kemp tried honestly
to help Gerry with the filling Of the
soil but the effort was still-born. Kemp