Aunt Molly had a vigorous, active mind, and a strong, tenacious
memory; and her love of the departed grandeur and Toryism of Court
Row, as she called that part of Brattle Street from Ash Street to
Mount Auburn, was pleasant and entertaining to those who listened to
her tales of other times.
Peace to her memory!
THE SOUNDS OF MORNING IN CAMBRIDGE.
I sing the melodies of early morn.
Hark!--'t is the distant roar of iron wheels,
First sound of busy life, and the shrill neigh
Of vapor-steed, the vale of Brighton threading,
Region of lowing kine and perfumed breeze.
Echoes the shore of blue meandering Charles.
Straightway the chorus of glad chanticleers
Proclaims the dawn. First comes one clarion note,
Loud, clear, and long drawn out; and hark! again
Rises the jocund song, distinct, though distant;
Now faint and far, like plaintive cry for help
Piercing the ear of Sleep. Each knight o' the spur,
Watchful as brave, and emulous in noise,
With mighty pinions beats a glad _reveille_.
All feathered nature wakes. Man's drowsy sense
Heeds not the trilling band, but slumbrous waits
The tardy god of day. Ah! sluggard, wake!
Open thy blind, and rub thy heavy eyes!
For once behold a sunrise.
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