. Perfect pearls of poetry and prose; the most unique, touching, inspiring and beautiful literary . r hazy hills Oer the dim waters widening in the vales, ^^^ Hlumberous wings the vulture his Sent down the air a greeting to the mills, flight, On the dull of alternate flail- .,.,,^ j^^^ ^^,^^^^ ,,^^^^,1 ,,i„ ^,^hing matoe All sights wore mellowed and all sounds romplaint, subdued. And, likr; a star slow drnwinng in the liglii, The hills seemed further and the streams The village (.hurch-vane seemed td pale and sang low, I faint. THE (.LOSING SCENE. 557 The sontinel co
. Perfect pearls of poetry and prose; the most unique, touching, inspiring and beautiful literary . r hazy hills Oer the dim waters widening in the vales, ^^^ Hlumberous wings the vulture his Sent down the air a greeting to the mills, flight, On the dull of alternate flail- .,.,,^ j^^^ ^^,^^^^ ,,^^^^,1 ,,i„ ^,^hing matoe All sights wore mellowed and all sounds romplaint, subdued. And, likr; a star slow drnwinng in the liglii, The hills seemed further and the streams The village (.hurch-vane seemed td pale and sang low, I faint. THE (.LOSING SCENE. 557 The sontinel cock upon thfi hillside crew,—Crew thrice, and all was stiller than be-fore ;Silent till some replying wanderer blewHis alien horn, and then was heard nomore. Where erst the jay; within the elms tall crest;Made garrulous trouble round the unfledgedyoung; Foreboding, as the rustic rnind believes,An early harvest and a plenteous year : Where every bird which iharmed the vernalfeastShook the sweet slumber from its wings atmorn,To warn the reapers of the rosy east—All now was songless, empty, and And where the oriole hung her swaying nest I Alone, from out the stubble piped thtBy every light wind like a censer swung ; quail, Where sang the noisy masons of the eaves,The busy swallows circling ever near, And croaked the crow through all th«dreary gloom; 558 GRADATIM. Alone, the pheasant, drumming in the vale,Made echo to the distant cottage loom. There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers ;The spiders wuve their thin shrouds nightby night;The thistle-down, the only ghost of flowers,Sailed slowly by—passed noiseless out ofpight. Amid all this, in this most cheerless air,And where the woodbine sheds upon theporch Its crimson leaves, as if the year stood thereFiring the floor with his inverted torch— Amid all this, the centre of the scene, The white-haired matron, with monoto-nous tread,Plied her swift wheel, and with her joylessmienSat like a Fate, and watched the f
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectenglishliterature
