HOW like a rich and gorgeous picture hung In memory's storied hall, seems that fair scene O'er which long years their mellowing tints have flung. The wayside flowers had faded one by one, Hoar were the hills, the meadows drear and dun, -- When homeward, wending, 'neath the dusky screen Of the autumnal woods at close of day, As o'er a pine-clad height my pathway lay, Lo! at a sudden turn, the vale below Lay far outspread, all flushed with purple light; Gray rocks and umbered woods gave back the glow Of the last day-beams, fading into night; While down the glen where fair Moshaussuck flows With all its kindling lamps the distant city rose. |