I have known villages where brooding hills Keep everlasting watch through tranquil days; Whose streets, green-arched, are quiet cloistered ways; Whose dew-drenched nights pervading magic fills; Where lavishly the moon her floodlight spills— A spot like this, with cool sequestered ways, The fever from life's buffeting allays And soothes the pain-racked heart, bruised by life's ills. Vermont still holds such havens of content. Of these is Chelsea whose white homes house those Who find life's beauty in these ways apart; Her spires still beckon to the firmament, Her gardens still are redolent of rose, Verbena, marigold and bleeding heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FISHERMAN IN SONGKHLA by KAREN SWENSON JABBERWOCKY by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON SEA GODS: 2 by HILDA DOOLITTLE ON LORD HOLLAND'S SEAT NEAR MARGATE, KENT by THOMAS GRAY ESCAPE AT BEDTIME by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |