Arizona miner., 1866-06-27
Arisona ainer.
TIE CLOSING SCENE.

 TnE following. Is pro. ,unced by tbc,westmln- ts,er Rerieic ttt most beautiful American poem ever vfiitcu Within the sober realms of lesfcss trees, The russet year inhaled the dreamy air Like some tanned reaper in his hours of ease, When all the fields are lying brown and bare. The gray barns locking from their hay hills, Der the dun waters widening in the wales, Sent down the air greeting to the mills, On the dull thunder of alternate nails All sights were meilowed, and all sounds subdued The hills seemed further and the stream sang low
 As in dream the distant woodman hewed His winter log, with many muiiied blow. The embattled forests, erewhIle armed with gold, Their banners bright,and every martial hue, Now stood like some sad, beaten host Of old, Withdrawn afar In Times remotest blue. On sombreswlngs the .vuturc tried his flight The dove scarce heard his signing mates com And, like star slow drowning fin the light, The village church yane seemed to pale and faint
 The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew Crew thrice-and all was stiller than before; Silent til some replying whrder blew Ills alsca horn, and then vas heard no more. Where erst the jay within the elms tall crest, Made garrulous trouble round her unnedged young;
 And where the oriole hung her swaying neat, By every light wind like ccnser swung Where swung .,he-noisy martins of the caves, The busy swallows circling ever near tEOfSbCesng as the rustic mind believes, An carly harvest and pienteous year. Where every bird that walked the vernai feast shook the sweet slumber from it's wings at morn.
 To warn the reaper of the rosy east All now was sunless, empty and forlorn. Alone, from out the stubblc, pipcd the quail; And crooked the crow through all the dreary gloom;
 Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale, Made echo in the distant cottage loom. There was TO bud. no bloom upon the bowers. The spiders moved their thin shrouds night by night;
 The thistle down, the only ghost of flowers, Sailed slowly by-passed noiselessiy out Of sight. Amid all this lin this most dreary air, And where the woodbine shod upon the porch, Its crimson leaves, as if the year stood there, Firing the floor with its inverted torch Amid all this-the centre Of the scene, The white-haired matrOn the nlOnotonous tread, Piled the swif wheel, and with her loyiess mien, Sat Ike fate, ana Natcneu the nllnG tnreau- She had known sorrow. He had walked with her, on supped, and broke with her the sshen crust, And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir Of his thick mantle trailing in the dust. While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom,
 Her country summoned and she gave her all; And twice war bowed to her his sable plume Re-gave .he sword to rust upon the wall  Re-gavc the sword, but no, the hand that drew, And struck for liberty the dying blow; Nor him who to his sire and his country true Fell mid the ranks of the invading foe. Long, hut not loud, the dropping wheel went on Like the low murmur of a hive at noon; Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone Breathed through her lips sad, a remuloui tone.
 At last the thread was snapped-her head was bowed,
 Life dropped the dstaf through her hands SC rene;
 And loving nelghbors smoothed her careful
 shroud,
 While death and winter closed the autumn
 scene
 Thomas BHehG,lan Rsad