Arizona republican., 1916-02-27
ANN MATILDA JONES
 POETESS Her Reflections in Prose and Verse (All Rights Reserved)
CHAPTER XIV
(All Rights ReserN

CHAPTER XIV Some years ago, in looking up an item of Spanish history, I came across an account of the tragic death of Dr. Jose RiZal, the poet.-/l Versified 1t at the time, but my lines never have been published I think perhaps they may be of some interest here.
 Jose Rzal Jose Rizal, poet of Spain, Young and gifted, and brave and leal. Held in his veins the purest strain Of the proudest blood of Oia> Castillo. He was betrothed to the fair Louise, Child of a noble and hOnored sire; She must drink bitterness to the lees Flower of his life. and his souls de-
 sire Forth, one summer. Don RiZal fared. over the ocean to other scenes, And life. with the islanders he shared On his broad estates in the Philip
 pines. The people loved him, for first and last, He sang for Freedom. as poets must, And every note was a bugle blast 'Gainst Spanish tyranny. wrong ano
 lust.
 Ere Dewey entered Manila Bay, And glory won that snail never Wano, Augustis soldiers had hurried away The hapless young singer back to
 Spain. At Barcelona a court convened
 Without delay, at the queens com
 mand; It never an instant to mercy leaned. And made hot haste with the work in
 hand.
 The charge was Treason-in vain he
 plead
 The cause of millions in sore distress; And many accusing songs were read Was he the author?" He answered
 "Yes!"
 His lands were forfeited to the throne; The people greeted his name with
 jeers- The truest poet that Spain had known In all her borders for fifty years. file Of soldiers came marching past, He faced them, out on the open plain; The Mausers flashed, and that was the
 last
 Of Jose Rizal. poet of Spain. The last? Does the martyr ever die Who sheds his blood for his fellow
 men?
 The stars may die in the spangled sky, But RiZars fame shall be bright till then. It will perhaps, be recalled that in an early chapter of these Reflections I gave the result of rhyming contest in Plum Hollow, publishing the verse en- titled, The Hypocrite," which Almira Spriggins wrote for that occasion She did not like my action in the least. Having evidently read my rondeau two weeks ago she has, l think, been making T recent study of the fixed forms of vers," for she now challenges me to attempt a sonnet. As she is a Mis- sourian, and ! never was brought up I to take dare,' I will show the old girl what I can do The lines below | are correct in technique. and of ap- proved sonnet form. La Grippe A friend of mine has what is called La Grippe ! And it has laid him squarely on the shelf l He cares not. now. to gather worldly pelf, 1 Abjures both politics and statesman l ship
 Has lost the sense of humor; joke or
 quip l He counts an insult to his better self | Meanwhile, he says a fierce, de-
 monac elf
 Claws him. from head to foot. without
 a skip.
 I think, perhaps, I have his troubles down
 In black and white-he suffers SC
 much doubt.
 At times I fancy that his gusty sneeZeS
 Sounds like the name of some strang. Russian town Whence German shells have knocked
 the vowels out
 And all the consonants-eXcep
 the Ys and Zs.
 ANN MATILDA JONES. l (To Be Continued)