Where bay and river tranquil blend, <br />And leafy hillsides rise, <br />The spires of Providence ascend <br />Against the ancient skies, <br />And in the narrow winding ways <br />That climb o'er slope and crest, <br />The magic of forgotten days <br />May still be found to rest. <br />A fanlight's gleam, a knocker's blow, <br />A glimpse of Georgian brick - <br />The sights and sounds of long ago <br />Where fancies cluster thick. <br />A flight of steps with iron rail, <br />A belfry looming tall, <br />A slender steeple, carved and pale, <br />A moss-grown garden wall. <br />A hidden churchyard's crumbling proofs <br />Of man's mortality, <br />A rotting wharf where gambrel roofs <br />Keep watch above the sea. <br />Square and parade, whose walls have towered <br />Full fifteen decades long <br />By cobbled ways 'mid trees embowered, <br />And slighted by the throng. <br />Stone bridges spanning languid streams, <br />Houses perched on the hill, <br />And courts where mysteries and dreams <br />The brooding spirit fill. <br />Steep alley steps by vines concealed, <br />Where small-paned windows glow <br />At twilight on a bit of field <br />That chance has left below. <br />My Providence! What airy hosts <br />Turn still thy gilded vanes; <br />What winds of elf that with grey ghosts <br />People thine ancient lanes! <br />The chimes of evening as of old <br />Above thy valleys sound, <br />While thy stern fathers 'neath the mould <br />Make blest thy sacred ground.<br /><br />Howard Phillips Lovecraft<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/providence-7/
