I know a little white house that stands, At the top of a lofty hill And the road that leads to this lovely spot In places, is grass-grown still. The road winds upward past sentinel pines, That guide the strangers the way, As they near the house at the bend of the road, Where they are welcome to stay. This house has stood for two hundred years, With its hand-carved posts and beams, With rugged stone fireplaces in every room, Just a wonderful place to dream. In early evening in one large room, Where the fire sends its ruddy glow, Can be seen a happy family group, All snug from the winter's snow. There's peace and contentment on every face, And this joy radiates to all, Who visit the house at the bend of the road, These visits they love to recall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POST-MORTEM by EMILY DICKINSON THE BLUEBIRD by EMILY DICKINSON BRONX, 1818 by JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE MY MOTHER'S GARDEN by ALICE E. ALLEN MOUNT PIERUS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE DEBT by KATHARINE LEE BATES |