In byre and barn the mows are brim with sheaves, <br /> Where stealeth in with phosphorescent tread <br />The glimmering moon, and, ’neath his wattled eaves, <br />The kennelled hound unto the darkness grieves <br /> His chilly straw, and from his gloom-lit shed, <br /> The wakeful cock proclaims the midnight dread. <br /> <br />With mullioned windows, ’mid its skeleton trees, <br /> Beneath the moon the ancient manor stands, <br />Old gables rattle in the midnight breeze, <br />Old elms make answer to the moaning seas <br /> <br /> Beyond the moorlands, on the wintry sands, <br /> While drives the gust along the leafless lands.<br /><br />William Wilfred Campbell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-christmas-eve/
