Oneata

A hilltop sought by every soothing breeze That loves the melody of murmuring boughs,

Cool shades, green acreage, and antique house Fronting the ocean and the dawn; than these Old monks built never for the spirit's ease Cloisters more calm — not Cluny nor Clairvaux;

Sweet are the noises from the bay below,

And cuckoos calling in the tulip-trees.

Here, a yet empty suitor in thy train,

Beloved Poesy, great joy was mine To while a listless spell of summer days,

Happier than hoarder in each evening's gain,

When evenings found me richer by one line,

One verse well turned, or serviceable phrase.