AN ACRE OF GRASS
 
 PICTURE and book remain,
 An acre of green grass
 For air and exercise,
 Now strength of body goes;
 Midnight, an old house
 Where nothing stirs but a mouse.
 
 My temptation is quiet.
 Here at life's end
 Neither loose imagination,
 Nor the mill of the mind
 Consuming its rag and bonc,
 Can make the truth known.
 
 Grant me an old man's frenzy,
 Myself must I remake
 Till I am Timon and Lear
 Or that William Blake
 Who beat upon the wall
 Till Truth obeyed his call;
 
 A mind Michael Angelo knew
 That can pierce the clouds,
 Or inspired by frenzy
 Shake the dead in their shrouds;
 Forgotten else by mankind,
 An old man's eagle mind.