Edmund Ollier (1827–1886)

A FITTING nook for meditative men!—

A region of neglect and glimmering gloom,

Yet secretly unfolding many a bloom

Worthy of gardens,—to be denizen.

A pillared grotto once was in this glen,

And sculptured shapes; but see how hungry doom

Has gnawn them half away, while o’er them loom

Black branches, arching like a dusky den;

Between whose trunks you see, quite overbrowed

With intertwisted foliage, dark and drear,

White convent walls gleam like a parting ray

Under the forehead of a thunder-cloud;

And silently and sad, from year to year,

The cowled monk stagnates, withering away.