Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine,
Thy charms my only theme;
My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine
Waves o'er the gloomy stream.
Where the sacred owl, on pinions gray,
Breaks from the rustling boughs,
And down the lone vale sails away,
To more profound repose.

Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical (1917)