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...ON THE ROAD TO CHORRERA by ARLO BATES TO HIS DYING BROTHER, MASTER WILLIAM HERRICK by ROBERT HERRICK THE PLACE WHERE MAN SHOULD DIE by MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: DEDICATION TO R. WENMAN by WILLIAM BASSE IRELAND'S VENGEANCE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT NORTH WIND IN OCTOBER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |