Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1883-06-24
For the Sunday Appeal
A wOMAN's DEED.

Where is Gerry Lyle, Addie, did you say?
Well, now, how do r know, my dear;
Yes, its Just three months since he went away,
remember; he left rather queer,
In the merriest part Of the season,
When were all SO very gay,
And do wonder what l1as the reason
He, of all others, went away
That night OF the glorious Ascot ball?
On yes; danced with him twice
Not quite as often as did with Paul;
But, then, we had such an ice
In the garden alone, and the moonbesms
Made US fooiishly romantic,
And we INDUCED in ridiculous dreams,
While both OF US grew pedantic.
How the colored lights did brilliantly glow,
Like sparkling gems OF living fire;
And don't you remember " i'll bowed SO low
In the Lancers to Belle McIyre
That all of US laughed, and my blue silk train
Was torn to shTeds-Ihose horrid boys;
don't believe they care; they simply feign
Sorrow, and sneer when it annoys.
Maude wore that horrible electric blue,
The most trying color she can.
And that white lacel not an ounce OF it true
I'll wager my Marab tut fan.
How awfully that Wilson girl did hirt
With Harvey Raymond all that night.
laughed when he tore that hounce from her
In the gentlemen to the right
flirt? capital joke, must say.
such nonsense is out OF my line;
But otentimes am shockingly gay.
Still, such a charge must decline.
Did stay in the cORserUdt0tre long?
remember we both had a cream
When Lucille Gravers was singing that song
Oh, wasn't ii a horrible scream?
Operatie? Yes, quite so, surmise,
Distorted her face and rolled up her eyes.
Stretching enough to wake the dead.
Gerry Lyle? Why do you still talk of himH
He left the same night OF the ball,
When the cold watching stars were pale and dim;
! And tired night was DOMINIC her pail
Out West? believe he did say something
I About tempting old mother earth'
To yield from her caverns a golden spring;
Absence will be his troubles worth
Congratulations? Well, dear Adelaide.
might as we'll tell you to-day
| That want you TO be my hrst bridesmaid.
Eann
You are mistaken, it's no sacrifice,
| This marriage OF mine with Paul Goldenrod;
Purple aad linen are needs oil my lie,
| Love is nothing-a stupid GOD
/ A foolish dream of rosy hue,
Laughed at by all save QuixOtie few,
Dear friend, who Try to prove themselves true;
| You only called TO bring me a letter?
What a precious treasure you are,
| You know there is nothing like better
Than sOvenizs from friends afar;
l Won't you stay for long cosy chat?
- Your walkings suit fits to L,
Y Aud myI such q lovely, beaming hat,
Just as pretty it can be.
/ Well she's gone; such tiresome thing
| Is enough to make any one blue
| So Gerry gave her letter to bring,
| 1 wonder if ne thinks me true?
| Darling, do you remember that night long ago,
| Under the white Jassamanoid?
| When the soft summer winds that whispered Low
| Were heavy with fragrance and cloyed
With rich odors, the olesnder bloom
| And sleepily distilled its perfume
| Upon the mIdnights waving air.
o
| LIS arms laden with buds of snow,
Whose cleaning faces were turned 10 the sky,
And bathed in the moonlights soft glow.
| How the warm light of love beamed in your eyes
| l feel your passionate kisses
| That bound us together in golden ties,
| Plunged us deep in loves abysses;
| hold once more your trembling hand In mine
| And press your quiyerinS hngers,
| Whose soft touch fills with ecstacy divine
My yielding soul; it still fingers
Like the deathless murmur OF ocean waves.
| BY the memory OF that love
l lie nv futu life with iOy and laVes
| NV soul with incense fIom above,
| In memory OF that dreamy June night
When we plighted our holy vows,
And kissed you, (for had not the rightly
| Underneath the jessamine bOughs?
| Be true to me who would count life as lost,
| Without thy generous love near
| When white stars CLEAN on the Jassamanoid,
| Thou wilt be mine and Alma, dear,
sorrowing tears shall never dim thine eye
| Thy ruby lips shall never breathe sigh
| swear i'll Your own Gerard Lyle
| Poor, foolish simpleton, strange he should think
That ever could marry him,
| Standing. as it were, on poYeIty's br1nk,
And plucking thlstles from its rim.
Love in a cottage may pay very well,
| brown stone front, with silver-plated bell,
Is something that suits me better"
Where the Western sun kisses the ocean
Before bidding the world good night,
group of miners, pale with emotion,
| Turned white face to catch its light.
Trembling hands tenderly brushed the deaf
stamp
| From his wet brow, pale and frigid.
| And hushed stiffness fell upon the camp
AS his features grew more rigid.
His warm hfe's blood suddenly ceased falling
| From the jagged cash meath his chin,
| His weary lips at last ceased calling
The name of one love could not win.
And she, drinking bliss with wealth surroun
Would scarcely have courage to stand
And gaze on that form in gore Astounding,
| The work OF her own soft, white hand.
| MARY INGE HOSKINS.