FROM TWO WINDOWS.

THIS window looketh toward the west, And o'er the meadows grey Glimmer the snows that coldly crest The hills of Galloway.

The winter broodeth all between

In every furrow lies;

Nor is there aught of summer green, Nor blue of summer skies.

Athwart the dark grey rainclouds flash
The sea-bird's sweeping wings,
And through the stark and ghostly ash
The wind of winter sings.

The purple woods are dim with rain, The cornfields dank and bare; And eyes that look for golden grain Find only stubble there.

But when I to the window turn
That fronts the southern plain,
Small sign of winter I discern,

Or cloud-rack fierce with rain.

Sunshine is not more clear in June,
Nor August sky more blue;
Not otherwise on summer noon
Looketh our guardian yew.

And there in leafage never sere
Stand all the solemn pines;
Nor fresher in the spring appear
Their melancholy lines.

Dark green against the southern sky

Their shaggy tops are seen;

The flooded meadow-levels lie

All silver-grey between.

Thus light and dark and dark and light

So near together come,

That you may hold them both in sight From one small-window'd room.

But while I write, behold the night
Comes slowly blotting all,

And o'er grey waste and meadow bright
The gloaming shadows fall.

1884.

From all the quiet lattices.

Dim lights are shining soon,

And through the cross-bars of the trees

Breaketh the wading moon.

JUNE RAIN IN WALES.

GOLDENER than gold's clear self, Above the purpling mountain mass the sun Doth hang, mist-mellow in the even-shine; Higher, the level curtain of the rain

Soft summer rain, that blesseth where it falls— Lets drop two sun-illumin'd folds of shower

Over yon dim blue western promontory—

The folk here call it Lleyn. Seen hence it seems A chain of islands like our Hebrides,

Adream amid the rain-still'd northern sea.

And now, O love, as thy life circles mine,
And thy dear influence, like the blessed rain,
Stilleth and purifieth the sea's surge,
So is the barren, lone, unquiet sea
Bound by the bands of habitable land,
Still'd by the gentle falling of the rain.

BELOW CADER IDRIS,

1884.

A CHRISTMAS GREETING.

A GREETING kind to thee, my friend, To thee a blithe good-morrow; And whatsoe'er He doth thee send, God send thee never sorrow.

For all good men this Christmas-tide,
Good girls and they together,
About the fire sit side by side
To spite the winter weather.

The wind about the missel-bush
Shakes every waxen berry;

And while it makes the maidens blush,
It makes the men a-merry.

And while upon this pleasant earth
Live men both good and jolly,
I wot they'll save for Christmas mirth
The yule-log and the holly.