A vision blooms where southern skies unfold,
A land to claim with poetry’s high aim,
Where laureate dreams in golden lines are told,
And Biltmore’s grandeur fans the muse’s flame.
Through whispered oaks, the driveway curves unwind,
Excitement swells where marbled floors arise,
And stonework shapes a vision so divine,
A timeless craft to spark the poet’s eyes.
The gardens stretch, a canvas green and vast,
The halls resound with echoes of the past,
A world where beauty’s built to ever last,
Inspires the soul to verses unsurpassed.
So Carolina calls with open door,
To weave my art where dreams and stone endure.