Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1866-09-12
pocirp.
The Closing Scene.

Inc C1OSIuB SCCuCs
The following 10 pronounced By the Wsss.inser Re-
siss to be unq uestionaoIy the nnest American poem
written:
Within the robsr realm. Of leahess trees,
The russell ear inhaled the dreamy air;
Liz. some tanned reaper in his hour of ease.
when all the fields lying brown and bare.
The gray barns looking from their hssy hills,
Der the dun wa-ers widening in the wales,
sent down the air a greeting the mills,
On the dull thunder OF alternate fails
All sights were meIIoved and all sounds subdued,
The hills seemed further and the streams rang low,
As in a dream the distant wocdnar hswed
His winter iog. with many q mufaed blow.
The embauIed forests, ere~hiIe armed with gold
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood like some sad be alter host Of OLD,
Withdrawn af2r in times remotest blue.
On somber wings IN. vuIture tried his flight.
The dove scarce heard his sigh ng ties complaint
And like o. slow droo. ing in the light,
The village church vane seem 20 pale and faint.
The ntineI cock upon The hillside
Crrw thrce-aud all stiIIer than before;
Silent, till some replying warbler blew
His alien bora, sud then was he I'd 10 more.
Where the jay within elm's tail cres.
Made garruious troubie round her unfedsed youEg
And where the orIo.- hung ner ewaying hest,
By every light wind like censor swung:
Where sang the missy martins Of the caves,
The busy swallows crcIing ever near
Torsbodng, Is the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest and q pIeRtsous year;
where every bird that walked the vernaI feast,
Shook the s'umb=- from its wings at morn;
To warn the reaper OF the rosy lust i;
All now sunless empty and foriorn-
Alone from the s:uJ5Is pipei the quail
And croatei the CROW through all the dreary gloom
Alone, the phsasant drumming in the vale,
Made echo in the distsn: cottage Io7m-
There was no bud, 10 rIoon upon the bowers;
The spiders their thin shrouds night by night,
The thistle down, the only ghost of flowers,
Sailed slowly by-passed n3iseles3 out of sight.
Amid all this-in this most dreary air
And where the woo1sine shed upon the porch
Its crimson leaves. as if the year stood there
FIRING the blood witt its inverted forch;
Amid all this-the centre Of the scene,
The .hite haired znatron, with monotonous tread,
Piled the wifi wheel, and with her joyous mien
sat like = fate, and watched the flying thr cad
She had known SORROW. He had walked with her,
OF, sIpped, and broke sith her the ashen crust,
And in the dead leaves still he heard the stir
OF his thick mantle trail ing IN the dult.
While yet her cheek was bright wi h summer bloom,
Her country summoned, and she gave her all
And Is ice bowed 10 her his sable plume
Re-gave he sword to upon the wall.
Re gave the sword, but not the hand that drew,
And struck FOR liberty the dying blow,
Nor him Who, TO his sire and cou ntry true,
Fell mid the ranks Of tie invading foe.
Long but not loud, the dropping wheel went on,
Like the 10 " uaurnur of a hive noon;
Long, but loud, the memory Of the gone
5resthed through her lips a sad and tire muleus
At last the thread snapped, her head was bowed
Life dropped the dIstaf through her hands creme,
And loving n-ighbors noothed her careful shroud;