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Poem	Between the cliff-rise and the beach A slip of emerald I own; With fig and olive, almond, peach, cherry and plum-tree overgrown; Glad-watered by a crystal spring That carols through the silver night, And populous with birds who sing Gay madrigals for my delight. Some merchants fain would buy my land To build a stately pleasure dome. Poor fools! they cannot understand how pricelessly it is my home! So luminous with living wings, So musical with feathered joy . . . Not for all pleasure fortune brings, Would I such ecstasy destroy. A thousand birds are in my grove, Melodious from morn to night; My fruit trees are their treasure trove, Their happiness is my delight. And through the sweet and shining days They know their lover and their friend; So I will shield in peace and praise My innocents unto the end.
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