I know a cottage by the Cornish sea
Deep in a cove, gold-blossomed to the cloud,
Its hearth with music of the wave is loud,
Its chamber jocund with the streamlet’s glee.
About it cries the gull and hums the bee,
Above it sings the lark, around it crowd
All flowers that love the sun and are not proud,
And live their lives out innocent and free.
Steep to the threshold fall the cliff-hewn stairs,
But on the heights are left all human cares,
And only days of thoughtful happiness
Descend its seaboard solitude to bless,
While still bright leagues of azure and of foam
Restrain the feet and make the cottage Home.
(Sonnets Round the Coast, p. 25)