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The Mist

Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.

O, I’m gone back to the days of youth,
I am a child once more,
And ‘neath my father’s sheltering roof
And near the old hall door

I watch this cloudy evening fall
After a day of rain;
Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall
The horizon’s mountain chain.

The damp stands on the long green grass
As thick as morning’s tears,
And dreamy scents of fragrance pass
That breathe of other years. -Emily Bronte

Our goal is to evoke the fresh breeze of Spring, the first warm hints of Summer, the golden beauty of Autumn and the wonderland of Winter. Every season holds the promise of love and adventure.

Cape Cod, Massachusetts & Beyond

FOR ADVENTUROUS SOULS

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