, 1867-02-15

4 ~ "1"|.l AAAc llOaAuH ocEuts H
The following il pronounced by the wes,min-
Ti''er Re'ieT, 70 be unqgeslionabIy the finest
AneraeAu poem ever Erittens ,.... a. ID go. --
Within the sober realms Of lifeless trees, irs.-,
me rnsset year inhaled the dreamy air g
Like some tanned reaper 10 his hour of ease
when all fields are lying brown aud bare.
The gray barns looking from their hazy hills,
Oer the dun waters widening wales - D. i'a
Sent down the air greeting TO the mills.
On the duh thnnder Of. alternate. .Aails.,
All sights were meIlowed, aud all sounds snb-
duedi ti-ia. %. aa.ll o.. ssli a.,e..--
The hius seemed further and -ths si--7--' sang
As In 1-5-ur tne distant woodman bewed 20
His winter log, with manysA mufied blow.
The embattled FORESTS, 'erewbiIe armed With
gold, ..-l
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood like some sad beaten host Of old,
Withdrawn afar ID Times remotsst blue. "-
On sombre wings the vulture tried his flight;
The dove scarce heard his signing mates CON-
plhiut
And IKE star slow dropping in the light,
The village church vane seemed to pale and
faint
The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew
Crew tbrice-and all was stller than before
Silent, till some replying warder ulew
HIS alien horn, and then was heard no more.
Where erst the jay within the elm's tall crest,
Made garrulous trouble round her unfedged
young
And where the creole hung her swaying nest,
By every light wind like censor swung.
Where sang the noisy martins of the caves,
The busy swalIows circliug ever
FOreboding, as the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest aud penteous year.
Where every bird that walked the vernal feast,
Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at
morn
To warn the reaper of the rosy east.
All now was sunless, empty and forlorn.
Alone, from out-the stubble, piped the quail
Aud croaked the crow through all the dreary |
gloom
Alone, the pheasant drumming In the vale
Made echo to the distant cottage loom.
There was bud, no 5loom upon the bowers;
The spiders woVe the.r thin shrouds night by |
night,
The thistle down, the only ghost of flowers,
Sailed slowly by-Passed nOiseless out of |
Amid all ths-in this most dreary air,
Aud where the woOdbine shed upon the porch
Its crimson leaves, as if the year stood there,
Firing the floor with its inverted torch:
- ''.'S----slss
Tue white haired matron, with momentous
tread,
Piled the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien
Sat like fate, and watched the flying thread.
She had known sorrow. He had walked with
her,
OFT supped, aad broke with her the ashen
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 oountry summoned and she gave her all
And twice war bowed to her his sable plume
Re gave the sword to rust upon the wmi
Re-gave the sword, but not the hand that drew
And struck for liberty the dying blow;
Nor him who, to his sire aud country true,
Fell mid the ranks of the inVadiog foe.
Long but not loud, the droning wheel went on
Like the low murmur OF hive at noon;
Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone
Breathed through her lips sad and Iremulous
tune.
At last the thread was snapped, her head was
bowed
Life dropped the distaF through her hands
= serene,
And loving neighbors smoothed her careful
STROUD
While death and winter closed the autumn
scene.