Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1858-05-28
From Harper's Monthly for June.
a NIGHT SCENE.
BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Oh River, gentle River, Glidingon,
~ silence, underneath the starless sky
Thine is a ministry that never rests,
Even while the living sumber For a Time
The meddler, man, hath left the elements
In peace the ploughman breaks the clods no more,
The miner labors noe with steel and fire,
To rend the rock; and he that hews the stone,
And he that fes the forest; he that guides
The loaded vain, and the poor animal
That drags it, have forgotten, for while,
Their toils, and share the quiet Of the earth.
Thou pausest not in thine allotted task,
Oh darkling Iiverl through the night hear
Thy wavelets ripping on the pebbly beach,
] hear thy current stir the rustling sedge
That skirts thy bed; thou intermirtest not
Thine everlasting journey, drawingon
4 silvery train from many mountain brook
And woodland spring. The dweer by thy side,
Who moored bis little boat upon thy beach,
Through all the waters that upbore it then
Have slid away DER night, shall find, at morn,
Thy channel filed with waters freshly drawn
From distant cliffs and bellows where the rill
Comes up amid the water.fags. All night
Thou givest moisture to the thirsty roots
or the 1.-the willow aud oerha nging plane
And cherishest the heritage on thy bank,
speckled with little flowers; and sendest up,
Psrpetually, the vapors from thy face
To steep the hills with dew or dsrken heaven
With marching clouds that trail the abundant
showers.
Oh River, daTklins River! whata voice
Is that thou Interest while all else is still
The ancient voice that, centuries ago,
Sounded between thy hills while Rome was yet
A weedy solitude by Theirs stream!
How many, at this hour, along thy course.
Slumber TO thine eternal murmurings,
That mingle with the utterance of their dreams
A. dead of night the child awakes and hears
Thy soft, familiar dashings, and is soothed,
And sleeps again An airy multitude
Oflittle echoes, all unheard by day,
Family repeat, Ill. morning, after thee,
The Story Of thine endless going forth.
Yet there are those who lie beside thy bed,
For whom thou once didst rear the bowers tina
screen
Thy margin, and ddst water tho green feIda'
And LOW there is no night so still that they
Can hear thy lupsei their slumbers, we're til.
voice
Louder than oceans, il could never break,
For them the early violet no more
Odens upon thy bank, nor, for their eyes,
Glitter the crimson pictures Of the clouds
Upon thy bosom When the sun goes down.
Their memories are abroad-tne memories
Ofthose who last were gathered to the earth
Lingering within the homes in which they sat,
lowering about the paths in ich they trod,
Haunting them like presence. Even now
They visit many dreamer in the forms
They walked in, ere at last they wore the shrou
And ewes there are that will not close TO dream
For weeping and for thinking Of the grave,
The new made grave, and the pale one within
These memories and these sorrows all shall fad
AND pass away, and fresher memories
And newer sorrows come and dwell awhilo
Reside thy border, and in tnrn depart
ON glide thy waters ill at last they flow
Beneath the windows Of the populous town,
And all night long give back the CLEAN OF lamps
And g!immer with the trains of light thet strean
From halls where dancers wbrl. DINNER "a
Touches thy surface from the silent room
In which they tend the sick, or gather round
The dying; and a slender, steady beam
Comes from the little chamber in the roof,
Where, with q feverous crimson on her cheek,
The solitary damsel dying too,
Plies the quick needle till the stars grow pale,
There, close beside the haunts Of revel, stand
The blank, unlighted windows, where the poor,
In darkness and in hunger, wait till morn.
There, drowsily on the half-conscious ear
Ofthe dull watchman. pacing on the wharf,
Fails the soft ripple ofthy waves that strike
On the noored bark bat guiltier lstners
Are near, the providers of the night who steal
From shadowy nook to shadowy nook, and sta
II other sounds than thine are in the air,
Oh glide away from those abodes that bring
Pollution 10 thy channel and make foul
Thvonce clear current. Summon thy quick wa
And dimpHnE eddies; linger nos but haste,
With all thy waters, haste thee to the deep,
There to be tossed by shifting winds, and rock,
BY that mysterious force which lives within
The seas immensely, and Yields the weight
Gifts abysses, swaying 10 and fro,
The bilowy mess, until the stain at length
Shalt wholly pass away and thou regain
The crystal brightness Of thymountain sprinl