Providence

Written May 1924


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

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