Pulp Fiction, 1887 · page 122 of 399
The Argosy — page 122: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1887. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Iro Iw #Memortant. FEBRUARY 10, 1887. How shall we mourn thee, gifted one, How best extol thy deathless fame ? Who, like the glorious setting sun, A golden halo round thy name, Sank into rest : In brighter worlds to rise again Crowned with the blest. How few among the author train Can writings show as pure as thine ; The chaste creations of thy brain As fair untrodden snow will shine Years hence, as now: Immortal, as the wreath we twine Around thy brow. A thousand lives owe thee their birth, A thousand scenes of joy and woe; Thou couldst at will provoke our mirth, Or bid our tears of sorrow flow ; Alas! that we, Thy lov’d remains in earth laid low, Must weep for thee ! The busy fingers never more Will scatter stores of “‘ golden grain,” Thy triumphs won, thy trials o’er, Peace to thy memory : not in vain Thy life was spent ; _ Thy heart’s best thoughts with us remain— Thy years were lent. M. J. R. (CO —_— ill Goo! SS (CO