Here is the place where Loveliness keeps house, Between the river and the wooded hills, Within a valley where the Springtime spills Her firstling wind-flowers under blossoming boughs: Where Summer sits braiding her warm, white brows With bramble-roses; and where Autumn fills Her lap with asters; and old Winter frills With crimson haw and hip his snowy blouse. Here you may meet with Beauty. Here she sits Gazing upon the moon, or all the day Tuning a wood-thrush flute, remote, unseen: Or when the storm is out, 't is she who flits From rock to rock, a form of flying spray, Shouting, beneath the leaves' tumultuous green. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 11. HAMBURG by SARA TEASDALE CINQUAIN: NIGHT WINDS by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY COQUETTE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ODE TO THE CONNECTICUT RIVER by JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD A SPIRITUAL LEGEND by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY |