From a love of the picturesque—
You hint, maybe, that it takes no share
In the plot of this weird burlesque;
But cliffs that tremble at every touch,
And that flap in the dreadful draught,
Have something better to do—ah, much!
Than to criticise Nature's craft!
The cliff is there, and the ocean too,
And the property rocks below.
(These last, as yet, don't appear to you,