Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1850-11-16
The luskcrs.
BY sonS o. wnIrrlnn.

N'N - N"'s """ ioAAeht ieeNihB All the 4
woodland gay
With the hues of Summers rainbow, or the |
meadow-howers of May.
Through thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun
rose broad and red,
At first rayless disc of fire, he frightened as
he sped
Yet even his noontide glory fell chastened and |
subdued,
On the corn-felds and the orchards, and the
softly pictured wood,
And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the
night,
He wovo with golden shuttle the haze with
yellow light;
Slanting through tho painted beechcs, he glori-
fed the hill
And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter,
greener still.
And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught
glimpses of that sky,
Flecked by the many-tintcd leaves, and laughed,
they knew not why;
And school girls, gay with astcr- flowers, beside
the meadow brooks,
Mingled the glow of Autumn with the sunshine
Of sweet looks.
From spro and barn, looked westerly the pa
ticnt wcathcr-cocks
But oven the birchcs on the hill stood motionlcss
as rocks.
No sound was in the woodlands, save the squir.
rels dropping shell,
And the yellow leaves among tho boughs, low
rustling as they fell.
The summer grains wcrc harvested; the stub
bic fields lay dry,
Where juno winds rolled, in light and shade,
the pale green waves of ryo
But still on gentle ilslopes, in valleys fringcd
with wood,
Ungathcrcd, bleaching in the sun, the heavy
corn crop stood.
Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through
husks that, dry and sere,
Unfoldcd from their ripenod charge, shone out
the yellow car;
Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many
verdant fold,
And glistened in tho slanting light the pump
kin's sphere of gold.
There wrought the busy harvester and many a
crcolSing vain
Bore slowly to the long barn floor its load of
husks and grain;
Till broad and rcd, as whom he rose, the sun
sunk down last,
And like merry guests farewell, the day in
brightness passed.
And 10! as through the western pines, on mead
ow, stream and pond,
Flamed the red radiance Of q sky, set all afro
beyond,
Slowly Of or the Eastern sea-bluffs mildcr glory
shone,
And tho sunset and the moonrisc were mingled
into one
AS thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed
away, t.f,-
| And deeper in the Frightening moon the tran
From many brown old farm house. and ham
let without name,
Their milking and their home tasks done, the
merry huskcrs came.
Swung DER the heapod-up harvest, from pitch
fork in the NOW,
Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant
scene below;
The growing pile Of husks behind, the golden
ears before,
And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown
| cheeks glimmering o'er.
Half hidden in quiet nook, serene of look
and heart,
Talking their old times o'cr, the old men sat
apart;
While up and down the unhusked pile, or nest
ling in its shade,
At hidc-and- seek, with laugh and shout, the
huPps chlIureh pluycu'
Urged by the good hosts daughter, maiden
young and fair,
Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride ol
soft brown hair,
Tho master of the village school, sleek of haii
and smooth of tongue,
To the quaint tune of some old psalm, husk-
ing ballad sung:
THE CORN SONG.
Heap high the farmers wintry hoard
Heap high the golden corn
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn
Let other lands, cxulting, CLEAN
The apple from the pine,
The orange from its glossy green,
| The cluster from the vine;
We better love the hardy gift
| Our rugged wales bestow
To cheer us when the storm shall drift
Our harvest fields with snow.
Through wales Of grass and meads of flowers
! Our plows their burrows made,
| While on the hills the sun and showers
OF chongeful April played.
We dropped the seed DER hill and plain.
Beneath the sun of MAY,
| And frightened from our sproutng grain
The robbcr crows away.
All through the long, bright days of June,
Its leaves grew green and fair,
And waved in hot midsummers noon
Its soft and yellow hair
And now, with Autumns moonlit ewes,
Its harvest time has come,
We pluck away the frosted leaves,
And bear the treasure home.
There richer than tho fabled gifts
Apollo showered of old,
Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
And knead its meal Of gold.
Let vapid idlers loll in silk,
Around their costly board
Give us the bowl of samp and milk,
BY homespun beauty poured