3 DECEMBER 1853, Page 32

Amid the gleaners I will stay, While the shout and

roundelay Faint off, and daylight dies away; Dies away, and leaves me lone With dim ghosts of years agone, Summers parted, glories flown ; Till day beneath the West is rolVd, Till grey spire and tufted wold Purple in the evening gold: Memories, when old age is come, Are stray ears that fleck the gloom, And echoes of the Harvest-home.