Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1867-11-16
THE CLOSING SCENE.
By THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

s!er RtrleU 10 DC unqucstOHaoly tIIe H'est hHiSi-
lean poem ever written:
Within the sober realms Of leafess trees,
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air,
Like some tanned reaper in his hour Of ease,
When all the fields are lying brown and bare
The gray barns looking from their hazy hills,
Ger the dun waters winding in the wales,
Sent down the air greeting to the mills,
On the dull thunder of alternate fails.
All sights were mellowed, and all sounds SUBJ
dued,
The hills seemed further and the stream sang
low,
As in dream the distant woodman hewed
Ills winteF-log, with many mufaed blow.
The embattled forests, erewhile armed with
gold,
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood like some sad, beaten host of old,
Withdrawn afar in Times remotest blue.
On sombre wings the vulture tried his fight
The dove scarce heard his sighing males's
complaint;
Aud, like star slow drowning in the light,
The village church vaue seemed tOPale and
faint.
The sentinel cock upon the hill side crew
Crew thrice-and all was stiller than before
Silent, till some replying warder blew
His alien horn, aud tLen was heard no more.
Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall crest,
Made garrulous trouble round her unaedged
young;
And when the oriole hung her swaying nest,
Byevery light wind like censer swung.
Where sang the noisy martins Of the caves,
TIE busy swallows crcling ever near
Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest a0d plenleOus year.
Where every bird ,nat walked the vcrnal feast
Shock the sweet slumber from its wings at
morn
To warn tie rearcr Of the rosy lust;
All now was sunless empty and for!orn.
Alone, from out the stubbIc, pped the quail
And crOakcd the crow through all the dreary
gloom;
Alone the pleasant. drumming in the vale,
Made echo in the distant cottage loom,
There was 10 bud, no bloom upon the bowers;
Tue spiders woye their thin shroud night BY
night,
The thistle down, the only ghost Of flowers,
Sailed slowly by-passed noiseless out Of
sight.
Amid all lhls-n this most dreary air,
And where the woodbine she'd upon the porch
It's 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.hared matron with monotonous
tread,
Piled the swift wheel. and with her joyless micn
Sat like fate, and watched the flying thread.
She had known sorrow. He had walked with
her,
Oft suFped, and broke with her the ashcn
crust,
And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir,
or 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 10 her his sable plume
Re.gaye the sword 10 rust upon the wall.
Re-gaye the sword, but not the hahd that drew
And struck for liberty the dying blow;
Nor him who, TO his sire and country true,
Fell mid the ranks Of the invading foe.
Long, but not loud the dropping wheel went on,
Like the low murmur OF hive at noon:
Long, but not loud, the memory of the gore
Breahed through her lips q sad and tremu-
tone.
At last the thread was snaPped-her head was
bowed,
Life dropped ,he distaff through her handsse.
rene
And loving neishbOrs smoOthcd her careful
shroud,
While death and winter closed the autumn
Curious Love Letters.
MAD.N-Most worthy Of estimation