I Love...

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.