Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1869-04-01
The Closimg Scene.
BYT. BUCHANAN READ.


[Che following is pronounced by the Westrnin-
ster Review to be unquestionably the finest
American poem ever written:l
Within the sober realm of leafess 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 harns, looking from their bazy hills,
Ger the duh waters widening 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 sub
dued
The HILLS seemed further off, the streams sang
low,
As in a dream the distant woodman hewed
His winter log, with many a muftied blow.
The embattled forests erswhile armed with gold,
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood like rome sad, beaten host Of old,
Withdrawn sfar in Times reinotest blue.
On somber wings the vulture tried his flight,
The dove scarce heard his signing mates CON-
plant,
And like star slow drowning in the light.
The village church yaDe seemed to pale and
faint.
The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew
Crew thriee-and ali was stlller than before
Silent till some replying warder blew
His alien horn, and then was heard no more.
Where erst the jay, within the elm's tail crest,
Made garrulous trouble round her untiedged
And WHERE | he oriole hung her swaying nest,
BY every light wind like a censor swung.
Where sang the noisy martins Of the caves,
The busy swallow ever rircling Dear-
For. boding the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest and plenteous'yeaf;
Where every bird tina. walked the veInal feast,
Shook the soft Stun Der from its wings at morn
To warn the reaper of The rosy East
All now was suuless, empty and fotlofn
Alone, from out the stubbie. piped the quail.
And croaked the crow through all the dIeaEs
gloom.
Alone the pheasant. drumming in the vale,
Made echo Ia the distant ooaage lo1m.
There was no bud. no bloom upon the bower;
The spiders moved their thin shrouds night by
night:
The thistle-down, the only ghost Of flowers.
Sailed slowly by passed noiseies' out 81 sisif
Amid all this, in this most dreamy AIR,
And where the woodbine shed upon the p"ie-
It, crimson leaves. a. II tht-year s.nO1 ih"ge.
Firing the floor with its inverted torch.
Amid all thistle center Of the scene.
The white-hairel ma-Ton, with anDn"i1noH
tread
Piled the swift wheel, aud with her Joyous rnein
Eat like tate, and watched the flying thrrad
She had known sorrow r. hal walked with bar
OFT supped, and broke with her the asian
crust,
And in the dead leaves still he hear the STIR
vi his thick mantle trailing ia the dust.
While vet her cheek was bright with summer
bloom,
Her country summoned and she gaTg hei al
Aud twice war bDErd - h-r his sable plume
Regaye the sword to rest upon the wall.
Regaye The sword but not the hand that drrW,
And struck for liberty the dying blow;
Nor him, who. 20 ms sire aud country true,
Fell mid the ranks OF an Iny idins Toe
Long. but not loud. the dropping wheel went 81
Lake the low murmuT 81 "A hive AT noon
Long. bat not loud, the memory of the gone
Breath.d through her lips a sal and ~ iutil u'
tune.
At las. the thread was SNAPPED her head va.
bowed.
Life dropped the dis;aH through h,r hand- ST..
rene.
And loving neiehhors sfnnofLcd her careful -Acoua
While Death AMI Winter cio.l tii- Autumn
fssa