10 JANUARY 1891, Page 13

POETRY.

A VIGNETTE.

HIGH in the blue the swallows swim like moths : Bronzed brambles lean o'er chalky cliffs ; below The stream beneath the mill-wheel whirls and froths, Then wounded writhes along the meadow slow. White roads with flinty margins rise and fall ; Red houses look out from their orchards green; The garrulous magpies to each other call, And, scant of grass, the tethered oxen glean. A silvery sound of horse-bells shakes the air, Now calm with coming night. The acacias stand Etched on the orange sky, where shadows rare Guard, as mute sentinels, the enchanted land Through which the sun sinks to the unseen sea, Behind the wooded heights of Normandy