The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1873-11-08
The Closing Scene.
BY T. B. READ.

Within the sober realms of leahess trees
The russell year inhaled the dreamy air
Like some tanned reaper III his hours of ease
When all the fields are lying brown and
bare.
The gray barns looking from their hazy hills
Der the duo waters widening in the wales.
Sent down the air greeting to the mills, -
On the dull thunder of alternate fails.
dued,
The hills seemed further, and the stream
sang low /:
As in a dream the distant woodman bowed
His winter log with many muftied blow
The embattled forests, erewhie armed with
gold,
Their banners bright with many martial
hue.
| Now stood like some sad beaten host of old,
Withdrawn afar in times remotest blue
| On sombre wings the vulture tried its fight
The dove scarce heard his signing mates
complaint
And like star slow drowning in the light
The village church-va seemed to pale and
faint.
| The sentinel cock upon the hillside crew
Crew thrlce-and all was stiller than before
| Silent, till some replying warder blew
His alien horn, and then was heard nc
more.
Where erst the jay within the elm's tall crest
| Made garrulous trouble found her upfede-
| ed young,
And where the oriole hung her waving nest.
| BY every light wind like censor swung
| Where swung the noisy martins on the caves.
j. he busy swallow circhng ever near
Forebodlng, as the rus tic mind believes.
An early harvest and plenteous year
| Where every bird that walked the vernal feast
Shook the sweet lumber from its wings at
morn,
| To warn the readers of the rosy nest
All now was sunlsI Il, empty and forlorn.
| Alone from out the stubbe piped the quail,
And croaked the crow through all the dreary
| gloom
Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale,
Made echo in the distant cottage loom.
| There was no bud or bloom upon the flowers
The spiders moved their thin shrouds night
| by night
The thistle down, the only gho-t OF flowers,
Sailed slowly by, passed noiseless out OF
sight.
| Amid all this, i'll their most dreary air,
| And whore the WOodbiue shed 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 whlte-haired matron with monotonou'
! tread,
Piled the swift wheel, and with her joyou!
| mien
Sat like a fate and watched the fyn2
| thread.
She had known sorrow He had walked witt
Oft supped, and broke with her the asher
| crust;
And on the dead leaves still she heard the sti
OF his thick mantle trailing in the dust.
While yet her cheek was bright with summe
bloom,
Her country summoned, and she gave he
| all;
And twice war bowed to her his sable plume
Regave the sword to rust upon the wall.
Regave the sword, but not the hand tina
| drew,
And struck for liberty the diving blow:
Nor him Who, to his sire and country true,
Fell mid the ranks OF the invading foe.
Long, but not loud, the jronmg wheel wen
on,
Like the low murmur of hive at noon,
| Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone
Breathed through her lips a sad and tremu
lOus tone.
At last the thread was snapped. her head wa
bowed
Life dropped the distaff through her hand
serene;
And loving neishbors smoothed her careful
| shrOud
While death and winter closed the autumn
| scene.