Browsing named entities in Cambridge sketches (ed. Estelle M. H. Merrill). You can also browse the collection for Auburn, N. Y. (New York, United States) or search for Auburn, N. Y. (New York, United States) in all documents.

Your search returned 5 results in 2 document sections:

Cambridge sketches (ed. Estelle M. H. Merrill), Sweet Auburn and Mount Auburn. (search)
Sweet Auburn and Mount Auburn. Mrs. Caroline F. Orne. Under these two names-Sweet Auburn and Mount Auburn — have the beautiful grounds, now endeared to countless hearts, been known and loved for more than a century. In 1635, Simon Stone, an Auburn and Mount Auburn — have the beautiful grounds, now endeared to countless hearts, been known and loved for more than a century. In 1635, Simon Stone, an English gentleman, came to New England with his family and settled on the banks of the Charles River; and his broad lands, after having passed from father to son in unbroken line of descent, for over two hundred years, form now portions of the Cambri, and sat under the scattered trees on an open knoll near the Stone mansion, hard by the river. Far and wide was Sweet Auburn known, and dear to many hearts, being full of sweet memories. From its highest hill, Stone's Mount, the prospect stret of waving grain. No wonder the old oak furnished so great an attraction for its numerous visitors. To the poet Sweet Auburn was a spot of romantic interest. It was the theme of many a lay, and dear to many a heart. But the time came when it
Cambridge sketches (ed. Estelle M. H. Merrill), The river Charles. (search)
y of Longfellow's poems do we trace this love for the river, which flows ever on past the windows from which he used to exult in its ever-changing, never-wearying beauty! The broad meadows and the steel-blue river remind me of the meadows of Unterseen and the river Aar; and beyond them rise magnificent snow-white clouds, piled up like Alps. Thus the shades of George Washington and William Tell seem to walk together on these Elysian fields. Dearer was the river to the poet for the name, which reminded him of three friends, all true and tried, and how tender is the later good-night to one of these, a friend, who bore thy name, sleeping in sweet Auburn, around which the river still steals with such silent pace. Others have written too of our river, ours and the world's, but the cool wind blows more freshly, reminding us that this is still March. We look across to the Brighton meadows, look once more where the Charles writes the last letter of his name, and then turn homeward.