Autumn Leaves | Page 5

boughs?In graceful beauty bent to earth,?As if to touch, with reverent love,?The kindly soil that gave it birth;--
And round it, in such close embrace,?Sweet honeysuckles did entwine,?We knew not if the south wind caught?Its odorous breath from tree or vine.
The CHESTNUT tall, with shining leaves?And yellow tassels covered o'er,?The sunny Summer's golden pride,?And pledge of Autumn's ruddy store,--
Though grander forms might near it rise,?And sweeter blossoms scent the air,--?Was still a favorite 'mongst the trees?That flourished in that garden fair.
All brightly clad in glossy green,?And scarlet berries gay to see,?We welcome next a constant friend,?The brilliant, cheerful HOLLY-TREE.
But twilight falls upon the scene;?Rich odors fill the evening air;?And, lighting up the dusky shades,?Gleam the MAGNOLIA'S blossoms fair.
The fire-fly, with its fairy lamp,?Flashes within its soft green bower;?The humming sphinx flits in and out,?To sip the nectar of its flower.
Now the charmed air, more richly fraught,?To steep our senses in delight,?Comes o'er us, as the ORANGE-TREE?In beauty beams upon our sight;
And, glancing through its emerald leaves,?White buds and golden fruits are seen;?Fit flowers to deck the bride's pale brow,?Fit fruit to offer to a queen.
But let me rest beneath the PINE,?And listen to the low, sad tone?Its music breathes, that o'er my soul?Comes like the ocean's solemn moan.
Erect it stands in graceful strength;?Its spire points upward to the sky;?And nestled in its sheltering arms?The birds of heaven securely lie.
And though no gaily painted bells,?Nor odor-bearing urns, are there,?When the west wind sighs through its boughs,?Let me inhale the balmy air!
The stately PALM in conscious pride?Lifts its tall column to the sky,?While round it fragrant air-plants cling,?Deep-stained with every gorgeous dye.
Linger with me a moment, where?The LOCUST trembles in the breeze,?In soft, transparent verdure drest,?Contrasting with the darker trees.
The humming-bird flies in among?Its boughs, with pure white clusters hung,?And honey-bees come murmuring, where?Its perfume on the air is flung.
A noble LAUREL meets our gaze,?Ere yet we leave these alleys green.?'Mongst many stately, fair, and sweet,?The DAPHNE ODORA stands a queen.
May 2, 1853.
AUNT MOLLY.
A REMINISCENCE OF OLD CAMBRIDGE.
In looking back upon my early days, one of the images that rises most vividly to my mind's eye is that of Miss Molly ----, or Aunt Molly, as she was called by some of her little favorites, that is to say, about a dozen girls, and (not complimentary to the unfair sex, to be sure) one boy. There was one, who, even to Miss Molly, was not a torment and a plague; and I must confess he was a pleasant specimen of the genus. At the time of which I speak, the great awkward barn of a school-house on the Common, near the Appian Way, had not reared its imposing front. In its place, in the centre of a grass-plot that was one of the very first to look green in spring, and kept its verdure through the heats of July, stood the brown, one-storied cottage which she owned, and in which the aged woman lived, alone. Her garden and clothes-yard behind the house were fenced in; but in front, the visitor to the cottage, unimpeded by gate or fence, turned up the pretty green slope directly from the street to the lowly door.
As I have started for a walk into the old times, and am not bound by any rule to stick to the point, I will here digress to say that the Episcopal Church (the Church, as it was simply called, when all the rest were "meeting-houses"), that tells the traveller what a pure and true taste was once present in Cambridge, and, by the contrast it presents to the architectural blunders that abound in the place, tells also what a want of it there is now,--this beautiful church stood most appropriately and tastefully surrounded by the green turf, unbroken by stiff gravel walks or coach sweep, and undivided from the public walk by a fence. Behind the church, and forming a part of its own grounds, (where now exist the elegances of School Court,) was an unappropriated field; and that spot was considered, by a certain little group of children, of six or seven years old, the most solitary, gloomy, mysterious place in their little world. When the colors of sunset had died out in the west, and the stillness and shadow of twilight were coming on, they used to "snatch a fearful joy" in seeing one of their number (whose mother had kindly omitted the first lesson usually taught to little girls, to be afraid of every thing) perform the feat of going slowly around the church, alone, stopping behind it to count a hundred. Her wonderful courage in actually protecting the whole group from what they called a "flock of cows," and in staking and patting the "mad dogs" that they were for ever meeting, was nothing to this going