This window looketh towards the west, And o’er the meadows grey Glimmer the snows that coldly crest The hills of Galloway. The winter broods on all between– In every furrow lies; Nor is there aught of summer green, Nor blue of summer skies. Athwart the dark grey rain-clouds flash The seabird’s sweeping wings, And through […]

With Rosemary for remembrance, And Rue, sweet Rue, for you. It was at the waterfoot of the Ken, and the time of the year was June. “Boat ahoy!” The loud, bold cry carried far through the still morning air. The rain had washed down all that was in the sky during the night, so that […]

[ Taken from the Journals of Travel written by Stephen Douglas, sometime of Culsharg in Galloway.] I. O mellow rain upon the clover tops; O breath of morning blown o’er meadow-sweet; Lush apple-blooms from which the wild bee drops Inebriate; O hayfield scents, my feet Scatter abroad some morning in July; O wildwood odours of […]

What of the night, O Antwerp bells, Over the city swinging, Plaintive and sad, O kingly bells, In the winter midnight ringing? And the winds in the belfry moan From the sand-dunes waste and lone, And these are the words they say, The turreted bells and they– “Calamtout, Krabbendyk, Calloo,” Say the noisy, turbulent crew; […]

Hail, World adored! to thee three times all hail! We at thy mighty shrine–profane, obscure With clenched hands beat at thy cruel door, O hear, awake, and let us in, O Baal! Low at thy brazen gates ourselves we fling– Hear us, even us, thy bondmen firm and sure, Our kin, our souls, our very […]

For wafts of unforgotten music come, All unawares, into my lonely room, To thrill me with the memories of the past– Sometimes a tender voice from out the gloom, A light hand on the keys, a shadow cast Upon a learned tome That blurs somewhat Alpha and Omega, A touch upon my shoulder, a pale […]

I THE LAST ANDERSON OF DEESIDE Pleasant is sunshine after rain, Pleasant the sun; To cheer the parched land again, Pleasant the rain. Sweetest is joyance after pain, Sweetest is joy; Yet sorest sorrow worketh gain, Sorrow is gain. ” As in the Days of Old.” “Weel, he’s won awa’!” “Ay, ay, he is that!” […]

” On this day Men consecrate their souls, As did their fathers.” * * * * * And ah! the sacred morns that crowned the week– The path betwixt the mountains and the sea, The Sannox water and the wooden bridge, The little church, the narrow seats–and we That through the open window saw the […]

The peats were brought, the fires were set, While roared November’s gale; With unbound mirth the neighbours met To speed the canty tale. A bask, dry November night at Drumquhat made us glad to gather in to the goodwife’s fire. I had been round the farm looking after the sheep. Billy Beattie, a careless loon, […]

One man alone, Amid the general consent of tongues. For his point’s sake bore his point– Then, unrepenting, died. The first time I ever saw the Old Tory, he was scurrying down the street of the Radical village where he lived, with a score of men after him. Clods and stones were flying, and the […]

The Vandal and the Visigoth come here, The trampler under foot, and he whose eyes, Unblest, behold not where the glory lies; The wallower in mire, whose sidelong leer Degrades the wholesome earth–these all come near To gaze upon the wonder of the hills, And drink the limpid clearness of the rills. Yet each returns […]

A grey, grey world and a grey belief, True as iron and grey as grief; Worse worlds there are, worse faiths, in truth, Than the grey, grey world and the grey belief. ” The Grey Land.” What want ye so late with Dominie Grier? To tell you the tale of my going on foot to […]

Hard is it, O my friends, to gather up A whole life’s goodness into narrow space– A life made Heaven-meet by patient grace, And handling oft the sacramental cup Of sorrow, drinking all the bitter drains. Her life she kept most sacred from the world; Though, Martha-wise, much cumber’d and imperill’d With service, Mary-like she […]

A short to-day, And no to-morrow: A winsome wife, And a mickle sorrow– Then done was the May Of my love and my life. “Secrets.” [ Edinburgh student lodgings of usual type. ROGER CHIRNSIDE, M.A.; with many books about him, seated at table. JO BENTLEY and “TAD” ANDERSON squabbling by the fireplace.] Loquitur ROGER CHIRNSIDE. […]

Merry are the months when the years go slow, Shining on ahead of us, like lamps in a row: Lamps in a row in a briskly moving town. Merry are the moments ere the night shuts down. ” Halleval and Haskeval.” In those days we took great care of our health. It was about the […]

Forth from the place of furrows To the Town of the Many Towers; Full many a lad from the ploughtail Has gone to strive with the hours, Leaving the ancient wisdom Of tilth and pasturage, For the empty honour of striving, And the emptier name of sage. ” Shadows.” Without blared all the trumpets of […]

” Now I wonder,” with a flicker Of the Old Ford in his eyes As he watched the snow come thicker, “Are the angels warm and rosy When the snow-storms fill the skies, As in summer when the sun Makes their cloud-beds warm and cosy? And I wonder if they’re sleeping Through this bitter winter […]

I O nest, leaf-hidden, Dryad’s green alcove, Half-islanded by hill-brook’s seaward rush, My lovers still bower, where none may come but I! Where in clear morning prime and high noon hush With only some old poet’s book I lie! Sometimes a lonely dove Calleth her mate, or droning honey thieves Weigh down the bluebell’s nodding […]

At home ’tis sunny September, Though here ’tis a waste of snows, So bleak that I scarce remember How the scythe through the cornland goes. With an aching heart I wander Through the cold and curved wreaths, And dream that I see meander Brown burns amid purple heaths : That I hear the stags on […]

I Far in the deep of Arden wood it lies; About it pleasant leaves for ever wave. Through charmed afternoons we wander on, And at the sundown reach the seas that lave The golden isles of blessed Avalon. When the sweet daylight dies, Out of the gloom the ferryman doth glide To take us both […]