Autumn Leaves | Page 5

wild,
All bathed in
morning's freshest dew.
The OAK his branches richly green
Broad to the winds did wildly
fling;--
The first in beauty and in power,
All bowed before the

forest-king.
But ere its brilliant leaves were sere,
Or scattered by the Autumn
wind,
Fierce lightnings struck its glories down,
And left a blasted
trunk behind.
A youthful ELM its drooping 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