Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1882-06-04
bile Registerl
ALABAMA.
DR.. SEYMOUR BULLOCK,

DR. SLY GOlk bIlLotks JE
Beneath the wide, majestic frieza
That caps these giant live oak trees
Who's plant branches nOrthward toss
Their pendent tufts OF hoary moss
In waving lines and dreamy mods
Like ghostly shades of drowsy gods
Here on the soft and fragrant leaves
On pine-tree plumes in open sheaVeS,
With natures vernal curtains spread
High-arch'd and canoped oerhead,
Wen couch our tired limbs to rest
With faces lifted 10 the west
And feast on vHpOrs dOubly hlId
With scent OF cedar sea-distilled,
Slow mix'd and ooZing through and through
From leaf to leaf in amber dew
While beams of silver. frosted white,
Athwart the inky robe of night
Fall shimmering through the wicker shade,
In fancy patchwork strangely laid
And sit emboss d upon the sward
In silence gazing heavenwaId-
, Low d a Alabama on thy breast
Mid virgin forests, Here we rest!'
The night-bird's cry i'll bowers deep
Shall Der our feyer'd senses sweep
Till fore Ourgaze the films arise
OF slumb er's painted paradise.
When angel fingers deck'd this sod
With floral offerings born of God,
Inc beauty shades OF blue and green
Of topaz hue and jesSamiue
Shone ouS a 1iaze SO; ,ySandrous fair
AmaZ Il, bewildered as they ran
A snowy rose forbid to man
Dropped unseen from their chosen flowers
And traild along the arbor bowers.
Fer since that day this creeping vine
Is reaching out in faith divine
It's long and tender armletS fair
To catch the hands that lost il there.
The Indian maidens loy'd to press
Its radient clusters on their breasts,
And superiitlOuS wonder gave
1t veneration from each brave.
Afar towards the sinking sun
The red mans race is nearly run
But here in their accustom'd haunt
still grows this wild, tear-dTopping plant
Their own white rose, the Cherokee,
Enwrapp'd in spirit mystery.
Here we will rest!'' here shall our lot
Be cast in beGuty's favor'd spot,
Where marks of constant summer time
Are seen outlin'd in pregnant signs,
And feel amid Il scene like this
Sweet foretaSte of immortal bliss.
For spirits people these fair aisles,
Unseen, yet presence known; their smiles
In witchery we see, and hear
Known voices calling in our ear.
Aye, surely some one walks with me
These lattlc'd paths, cannot see;
Methinks some one that long since died
Whose goodbye kiss was never dried
Upon my lips. whose sanity face
In every dewdrop rose trace,
Whose hazel eyes in purest love
Cleans down from every star above,
who Whispers tcU 1CIik icith thee
TIL thou shalt come 10 ICdlk luith me!
Here We will rest''-nor shall Il grief
Mar our repose for life is brief:
The mocking- bird that builds its nest
Conceald aloft in cunning zest,
Full soon will sing its final song
And endless change will still go on;
The vapor cloud, the soft, soft rain
will pass repass. and pass again
Through earth, through air, through fire and te
Its circling course for countless years.
The holly bay its seeds will cast
When germ and bud and bloom are past
This seasons yerdure hides the last.
But comrades. now while dew and damp
In beaded drops fall round our camp,
Wen swing in hannmocks elfn tost
High hung ia groves, entranc'd and lost,
And kiss in dreams the beauty hand
That led to this summer-land.