This is the place where hills loom far,
where the scattered farms and island are,
and all the marching trees;
...
This Is The Place
This is the place where hills loom far,
where the scattered farms and island are,
and all the marching trees;
where the fields lie sunny and roads twisted brown;
where the warves are listning and tumble-down
with salt tides round their knees.
This is the place where orchard boughs
are seaward cooked, and from each square house
wood-smoke climbs the skies;
where old farm wagons are painted blue,
where every sail has a patch or two,
and the windows shine like eyes.
Poem by Rachel Field, Poems for children,1924