O grand estate, where time stands still,
Nestled soft ‘midst Carolina’s hills,
Biltmore rises, a vision fair,
A masterpiece beyond compare.

Thy spires reach to kiss the sky,
Where clouds in quiet splendor lie,
Stone and glass, with artistry wrought,
A dream in waking life once caught.

Gardens bloom in vibrant hue,
Whispering tales of morning dew,
Olmsted’s hand, so deftly laid,
A canvas green, in light and shade.

Within thy walls, the past resides,
Echoes of laughter, tears, and pride,
Chandeliers gleam, and fires glow,
A world of grace from long ago.

The Blue Ridge watches, steadfast, near,
A sentinel through every year,
Thy beauty reigns, both bold and free,
O Biltmore, a legacy.

From winter’s frost to summer’s blaze,
Thy charm endures through endless days,
In Asheville’s heart, forever stand,
A jewel crafted by mortal hand.