Classic Poem

Where the beetling sea-cliff towers
And the sun-scorched crests are bare—
Where the seaward skyline glowers
And not in a garden fair—
I'm indifferent to flowers,
But I like to see them there.

Where the frowning sea-cliff towers
O my heart and soul are there!
In the height of stormy hours,
But not in a garden fair—
I'm indifferent to flowers,
But I like to see them there.

Where the darkening sea-cliff towers
I have not a thought of care;
I'm indifferent to flowers
Save when in a bosom fair,
Or a garden's sunny bowers—
Yes, I like to see them there.

Where the threatening sea-crest towers,
O my heart and soul can dare;
And the sky behind us lowers—
And not in a “garden fair”—
I'm indifferent to flowers,
But I like to see them there.