Sanctuarium

Let me chance upon a well-hidden nook Where my thoughts can assemble in peace, There I shall scribble in my poetry book Words and verses moaning for release; A field of daisies nodding in good cheer Would make a poet feel most welcome here Watch me amble to the top of that hill Where the sweet heather perfumes the air, And the clear mountain springs sputter and spill Over ferns happily dwelling there; Content, I'll write under the moon's bright eye, For a poet needs that jewel of the sky As tides ebb and flow o'er the sleeping sea, They'll watch me write with a fiendish zest, Having given all to my poetry, On some grassy knoll, I'll then take rest; O, what joy and pride shall course through my veins If but one voice praises this poet's strains! More verse still awaits - I've not been dismissed, But pity me not for this long day, Though stricken by pain more than by love kissed, This poet's heart shall have had its say; And may each poem be the golden chain That lifts some heart from its prison of pain