Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Here Is The Place Where Loveliness Keeps House




Here is the place where Loveliness keeps house,

Between the river and the wooded hills,

Within a valley where Springtime spills

Her firstling wild-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 fills

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

Turning a wood-thrush flute, remote, unseen;

Or when the storm is out, 'tis she who flits

From rock to rock, a form of flying spray,

Shouting, beneath the leaves' tumultuous green.




"Here Is The Place Where Loveliness Keeps House"
(1912)
Madison Cawein
(1865-1914)
American poet from Kentucky



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