Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1896-11-13
TIE DYING AUTUMN DA Us.

THE DYING AUTUMN DA Us.
The beautiful Autumn days are dying
nearly dead. How gently, softly into the
silence of the night, steals her song OF sor
row. II trembles with hushed tenderness
Of tone through the aisles and bowers oil the
forest where ii seems to whisper prophecy
OF coming nakedness and desoation. II
flows with mourniul cadance along the
meadows where the streams will soon be
chilled into silence and loose their babbling
merriment, and all the flowers will fade into
dust and ashes, whilst the twinkling rays Of
the far off stars gather into tear. drops as
they touch the current OF its low, sad melody.
Beautiful exceedingly they are, with that
touching tinge of sadness about them, which
is ever beauty's most impressive charm.
Yes, the beautiful days OF Autumn have
nearly fed. Alone upon the the hills the
shades Of evening slowly creep like death
shades DER an old mans soul The sun
sheds but faint and glimmering light
through the thick haze that gathers around
him as he sinks to rest upon his ocean bed.
All nature is hushed and still, bird and
beast and breeze, the voice OF man, the
murmur OF the streams come not to disturb
the sacred silence of the hour In which all
things seemed wrapped in silent grief
mourning the departed glory OF the bright
and beautiful Summer time. What an hour
for thought, wandering alone far from the
busy haunts of men, their cares and their
pleasures--amid the undisturbed solitude OF
the woods.
"The Summer is gone, the harvest is past"
Since last we wandered along our favorite
path what change has passed over the
scene The sweet flowers that bloomed all
around, filling the air with their rich per-
fume, the blue violets raising their heads to
be kissed by the passing breeze, the wild
honeysuckle, and all the beautious sister
hood have yielded to the blighting in.
fuence of Autumn and have gone down
To the dust from which they sprung.
"Heaped in the hollows the withered leaves
lie dead,
They rustic to the eddying gust and to the
rabbits tread"
But no more, in the green glory OF the
Summer, TO the merry pipings OF the even
ing's winds as they joyously roam through
the shady forest aisles. II brings feeling
OF keen regret, almost as If we were COM
hitting sacrilege, when we crush them be.
meath our feet. Yes, the beauty from the
forest has departed. The gay festoons of
green which Spring, In her benefcence, had
hung so gracefully upon the proudly tower
ing branches of Its trees have been swept
away by the pitiless winds, and they are
now traced in dull, dark nakedness upon
the cold and misty sky.
No verdure is left save upon a few scat
tered cumps OF pine or cedar, which present
to the eye the same lifeless green in Spring,
never varying-never changing, like the
heart Of stoics over which sweep with like
effect the songs of mirth or the lamenta-
tions Of sorrow. Amid the nakedness and
the desolation around, they stand out like
those green spots in the waste, which mem
DRY spreads out before the vision of the
breaking heart, on which though it may
repose for awhile, it brings no soothing in
fiuence to heal its sorrows.
The teatbered soppsters too have gone,
which but few weeks ago made these
forest bowers vocal with almost heavenly
muslc. and we hear none now save the dull
tw;,,a,;ng NJ the snarrow the harsh cawinp
of the crow as he wheels in lofty circles
,hrop,b tbe air-black bird of omen-fit
amir, 10 move amid the desolate scenes of
an. diving DAVIS n, the beau,iful Autumn
time
y.s ,he A,rm, aavs arc diving n few
rovs, ,,n,s s,il, l;nper 40 ,houph In shake
oa the floating vanors There are NO tears