The Red House of Stockbridge

The Red House of Stockbridge

[One Winter’s Morn]

Within the Forest large and deep

To Hawthorn’s house I walked

One winter’s morn

And touched upon the soil my feet

Where he once walked this snowy ground

Then resting upon his wooden fence

Where surely he strolled

To and fro

I listened to the story he wrote:

“The House of the Seven Gables”

Within this forest fresh with snow

Gazing upon a lake near-by

The Red House

Stands all alone

To tell his tales gone-by

Oh Yes! He walks this lane I stand

Talks to Melville of His plans

And chats with

Emerson who lives near-by

Of dreams, wishes, and winter’s sky

And as I turn to walk away

I see him resting by the fireplace…

IN the Red House of

Stockbridge