The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1865-12-01
THE CLOSING SCENE.
ny T. BUCHANAN READ.

! 1.-THE following is pronounced by the West
minister Review to be unquestionaby th'
finest American poem ever written:l
With tho sober realm of leadass trees,
Tie russell year inhaled the dreamy air;
Like some tanned reaper in bis hour OF case
When all the nelds are lying brown ant
bare.
The gray barns looking from their hazy hills
Ger the dun waters winding in the Wales,
Sent down the air a greeting to the mills,
On the dull thunder of alternate fails.
All sights were mellowed and sounds sub
dued,
Tie hills seemed further ani tho stream
sang low,
As in Dream the distant woodmsn hewet
HIS winter leg with many munled blow.
The embattled forests, erewhi;e armed will
gold,
Their banners bright with every martha
| hue,
Now stood like some sad, beaten host of old
Withdrawn aiar in Times remotest blue.
On sombfe wings the vulture tried his flight
1he dove scarce heard his signing mates
complaint;
And, like a star slow drowning in the light 9,
The village church.vane seemed TO pail
and faint.
The sentinel cock upon the hill side crew
Crew thrice-and all WAS stler than before
Silent, till some replying warden blew
His alien horn, and then was heard n
more.
Where erst the jt5, within the elm's tai
crest,
Made garrulous trouble rouad her unAedg
ed young;
And where the oriole hung her swaylng nest
By every light wind like censer swung;
Where sang the noisy martins OF the ewes,
The busy swallows circl'ng ever near
ForebodIng, as the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest and Il plenteous year;
Where every bird that walked the verna
feast,
Shook the sweet slumber from 1 Is wings a
morn,
To warn the reaper of the rosy east;
| All now was sunless. empty and iorlorn.
Alone, from out the stubble, pIped the quail
And croaked the crow through all the drea
ry gloom;
Alone, the pheasant, drumming in the vale. =.
! Made echo in the distance to the cottage
loom.
There was no bud, no bloom upon the bow
ers;
The spiders moved their thin shrouds nigh
By night,
The thistle down, the only ghost OF il,wers,
Sailed so"ly by-passed noiseless out o
sight.
Amid all this-in this most dreary air,
And where the wood6ine shed upon the
porch
Its crimson leaves, as If the year stood there
Firing the door with its inverted torch;
Amid all this, the center of the scene,
The white-ha ired matron, with mono tonou'
tread,
Piled the swift wheel. and with her joyles
mien
Safe like fate, and watched the nylnl
thread.
She had known sorrow. He had walked with
her,
OF supped, and broke with herthe asher
crust,
And in the dead leaves still she heard Tho
stir
ofhis thick mantle trailing in tho dust.
While yet her cheek was bright with sum
mer booih,
| Her country summoned and she gave hel
all;
And twice War bowed to her his sabl,
plume
Regave the sword to rust upon the wall
Regave the sword, but not the hand tina
drew
And struck for Liberty the dying blow;
Nor him who, to his sire and country true.
Fell md the ranks of the invading foo.
Long, but not loud, the droning wheel wen
| on,
Like the low murmur of a hive at noon;
Long but not loud, the memory of the Como
Brea,hed through her lips sad and tremu
| lous tune.
At last tho thread was snapped, her hea,
| was bowed;
Life dropped the dlstaff tn rough her hand
| serene;
And loving neighbors smoothed her carefu
shroud,
While Death and Winter closed the Autumn
scene.
A SIaIa ax,n4al.la n,...a,I..l l.l;-I..