Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1870-12-20
THE GAZETTE.
r11zsDaYEvENING, DECEMBER 20.
THE CLOSING SCENE.

THE following is. pronounced by the West
minister Review to be the finest Am erican poem
over written
Within the sober realm of leaness trees,
The russell yesr inhaled the dreamy air,
Like some tanned reaper, in his hour of ease,
When sll the fields are lying brown and bare.
The gray barns, looking from their hszy hills,
O'er the dun waters widening in the wales,
Sent down the air q greeting to the mills,
On the dull thunder of alternate fails
All sights were mellowed and all sounds sub
dusd,
The hills seemed further and the stream sang
Al in dream the distant woodman hewed
His winter log with many mutted blow.
The embattled forests. ere while armed with
gold.
Their banner bright with every, martial hue,
New stood like some sad, beaten host OF old,
Withdrawn afar in Times remotest blue
On sombre wings the vulture tried his aight;.
The dove scarce heard his signing mates
complaint;
And, like star slow drowning in the light.
The village church vsne seemed to pale and
faint.
The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew
Crew thrice-and all WAS stillsr than before;
Silent, till some replying warden blew
His alien horn, and then was heard no more.
Where erst the Jay, within the elm's tall crest,
Made e.rrulous trouble round her unfedged
And where the oriole swung her swaying nost,
By every light wind like ccnser swung;
Whore sang the noisy martens OF the caves,
The busy swallows crcliEg ever near
Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest and plenteous year;
Where every bird that walked the vsrnal feast,
Shook the sweet slumber from It's wings AZ
morn,
To warn the reaper of the rosy east
All now was sunless, empty and forloTn.
Alone, from out the stubble, piped tho quail,
And crooked the crow through ail the oresry
Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale,
Made echo in the distance to the cottage loom.
Thsrs was no bud. no bloom upon the bowers,
The spiders moved their thin shrouds plight
The thistle down. the only ghost of flowers.
Sailed slowly by-passed nolseless out OF sight.
Amid all this, in this most dreary air,
And where the wood bine sheds upon the porch
It's crimson leaves, ss if the year stood there,
Firing the floor with its inverted torch
Amid all this, the centre of the scene,
Tho white haired matron. with monotonous
tread,
Piled tho swift wheel, and with her joyous mein
Sat like fate and watched the flying thread.
She had known SORROW. He had walked with
her,
Oft supped and broke with her tie 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 country summoned, and she gave her ell;
And twice war bowed to her his sable plume
Re- gave the sword to rust upon the wall.
Regave the sword, but not the hand that drew
And struck for liberty the dying blow;
Nor him who. to his sire and country true,
Foil mid the ranks of the invading foe.
Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on,
Like - 49,
Long, but not loud the memory Of the gone
Breathed through her lips sad and tremu-
leus tone
At last the thread was snapped, her head was
Life dropped the dist,f through her hands
serene;
And loving neighbors smoothed her careful
shroud,
While death and winter close the autumn
ecene Il. b. BEAD.