Must admit the poetry is getting to me.
But Zombie would say, "Each to their own" - so my own is Yeats. "The Lake Isle of Innisfree."
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
Wh€ile I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
Much love as always,
Fid