Gateway to the Classics: Display Item
Rachel Lyman Field

A House I Know

Under the looming hills

Stands a house I know,

With its face turned to the sea.

About it fir trees grow,

And a little garden place

Where tangled color burns

And the air is bitter-sweet

With salt and flowers, by turns.

In that house I know,

Lamp and firelight blend

With the words that come and go

From friend to Island friend.