I love a tranquil, quiet place
that\'s far away from humankind,
where I can gain, by God\'s good grace,
possession of a poet\'s mind.
I love to wander, like the cloud,
that poet penned, \'does float on high,\'
unseen, as ghost in sacred shroud,
as silent as a sparrow\'s sigh.
I love to while away the time
composing \'neath the broad-leaved bowers,
where I can regulate my rhyme,
and shelter from autumnal showers.
I love to tread untrodden trails,
alone, among the trembling trees,
while setting sun she fades and fails,
and twilight breathes her blissful breeze.
I love this holy hour the best:
when moonbeams gleam and owls screech,
while mortals lay them down to rest,
and weary waves weep on the beach.