The weekly Minnesotian. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1852-1858, 1853-03-05
T he Closing scene.
ny T.BUcHAMAS REED,

Z child:
The Closing scene.
ny T. BucHAMAS REED.
Within the sober realms Of leaNess trees
The russell year inhaled the dreamy l.r:
Like some tanned reaper IN his hour Of case,
When all the neds are lying brown and bare.
The gray barns, looking from their lazy hills
Oer the dim waters, widening in the vaie,
Sent down the air greeting y the mills
On the dull thunder Of alternate Halls.
All sights were mellowei, and all sounds srbdue',
The hills seemed farther. and the streams sang low,
As In a dream, the distant woodmen hewed
His winter log with many mGl!td blow.
The embattled rests, erew';lc arIned in gold.
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood, like some SD beaten host OF Old,
Withdrawn afar in times rellost blue.
On sumberous wings the vuture tried his fight,
The dove scarce heard his signing mates complaint;
And ike a star, slow drowning in the light,
The village church vane seemed - PAL aud faint.
The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew.
Crew thrice, aid all was stiiler than before
Silent TN some replying warder blew
His allen horn, and then wds heard no more.
Where, erst, the jay within the eirn's tall crest
Made garrucus trouble round her uniiedged young !;
And where the os.ole hung her swaying nest,
by every light WIND Ike u censor swung;
Where sang the noisy masons Of tie caves,
The busy swallows crciims ever near,
An early harvest and pentcUus year;
Where every bird which charmed the vernal feast,
Shook the sweet siuniber from It's wing at morn,
to warn the reapers of the rosy east;
All now was songleSs, empty and foricrr.
Alone from out The s:uablr, piped the quail;
And croaked the crow, iro' all the dreamy gloom,
Anon the pheasant drumming In the vale,
Made echo to the distant cottage loom.
There was 10 bud, 40 bloom upon the bowers,
The spiders their thin sl:ou!s niEht by night;
The thislic-down, the only ghost OF flowers,
Sailed slowly ty-passed noiseiess out 0, sight.
Amid al this, in this most cheercss ar,
And where the woOdbine shed upon the porch
It's crimson leaves, as If the year stood there,
Firing the floor with his Inverted torch.
Amid all this, the centre of the sceEe,
The white-hared mairon, with ;nonot' nous ire ad,
Piled the swift wheel, and with her Joyless mein,
Sat like Fate, and watched the flying thread.
She had known sorrow. He ha! walked with her,
OFT supped, and broke with her the ashen crust,
And In the dead leaves still She heard the STR
Or his black mantle trailing in the dust.
While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom
Her Country summoned, AMI she gave her Gil,
And twice, war bowed to her his sable plume
Eegave the swords, TO rust upon the wall.
Rcgave the swords but nc tn hard that drew,
And struck for liberty the dyins boy;
Nor him who, to his sire and country tru.,
Fell 'niid the ranks Of the invading foe.
Long, but not loud, the dron!ng vince! went On,
Like the low Murnurs Of 4 hive at noon;
Long, but not loud the memory Of the gone
Breathed through her lips sad and tremuous tone.
Atlast the thread was snapped her head was bowed:
Life dropped the diStaf through his hands serene;
And loving neighbors sniooihed her careful shrord
whlie death and winter closed the autumn Scene.