The weekly Panola star. [volume] (Panola, Miss.) 1857-1881, 1869-12-17
THE CLOSING SCENE.

[Thc following poem is pronounced by The
Westminster Review the finest American poem
ever written.
Within the sober realms Of leaIess trees,
The russell year inhaled the dreamy air,
Like some tanned reaper in his hour of easel
When all the fields are lying brown and bare
The gray barns, looking from their haay hills,
Der the dun waters widening in the wales
Sent down the air Il greeting to the mills.
On the duh thunder Of alternate fails.
All sights were mellowcd, and all sounds sub
dued,
The hills seemed further, and the streams
sang low f Z
As in dream the distant woodman hcwcd
His winter log with many mullled blow.
The embattlcd forests, er9whilc armed with
gold,
Their banners bright with every martial
hue .
Now stood like some sad, beaten host ofold,
Withdrawn aiar in Times remotest blue.
On sombrc wings the yulturc tried his flight; (;
The dove scarce heard his singing mates
complaint
And, like star, slow drowning in the light
Thcvlhge church vanc seemed to pale and
faint.
The sentincl cock upon the hill -silc crew.
Crew thrlce-and all was stiller thaa before
Silent till some replying wardcr blew
His alien horn, and then was heard nomore
Where crst the jay within the elms tall crest
Made garrulous trouble round her unlcdge'
youngi hc
And where the oriolc hung her swaying nest
BY every light wind like eenser swung
Where sang the noisy martins OF the caves,
The busy swallows circling ever near--
Forcboding, Il S the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest and a plenteous year;
Where every bird that walked the yernal feast
Shook the sweetest slumber from Its wing
At morn:
+. To warn the reaper of the rosy east,
All now was sunless empty and iorlorn.,
, Alone, from out the siubble, pipcd the quail
: And cronked the crow through all the drea
rygloom; 4fkK.a
Alone, thc pleasant drumming in the vale,
If Made echo in the distant cottage loom.
D. There was no bud, no blossom upon the bower
:, The spiders moved their thin shrouds nigl
y by night:
u The thistle down, the only gtnst of flowers,
J. Sailed slowly by-passed noiselessly out
! sight.
,s Amid all this--in this most dreary air.
n And where the woodbne shed upon u
-st porch
It's crimson leaves, rs if the year stood there,
Firing the floor with its inverted torch.
o. Amid all this-thc centre of the scene,
ng The whitc-haircd matron, with monotone
ms tread
IN, Piled the swift Wheel and with her joyC
~, mein,A kh
ii, Sat Ike a fate, and watched the flying tllrc,
so,
iot She had known sorrow--hc had walked "
or OF Bupped, and broke with her the asl
crust, Ne y A A A
,ess And in the dead leaves still she heard the
OF his thick mantle IN the dust. sg,
While vet her check was bright with sum-
! bloom '~~
- Her country summoned and she gave her
And twice war bowed to her his sable plum
He gave the sword TO rust upon the wall.
cry Rc-gaye the sword, but moi 70 the hand
drew
And struck for liberty the dying blow
III. Nor him who, to his sire and country true,
Fell mid the ranks of the invading foe.
niles
lnty. Long, but not loud, the drowning wheel ]
hne on,
tic OF Like the low murmur ofa hive at noon
good Breathed through her lips sad andtr'
ents, n lous tome M fgs
Hogs, At last the thread was snarped--her head
bowed, J5G@ B{B
e-half A''s dln ussrr
at in ,,,,,or;a, no;cbbors smoothed her "a
soiu shroud,
While death and winter closed the aa
L. scene. - rta- =