They came from around the world
to this quaint and little place
a Waverly painted mansion
bodyguard-ed by snow and ice
It sits, beyond the ridge
a sedentary monolithic ghost
for souls whose only desire
is to wallow within themselves
most of them are writers
poetic souls in distress
whose trait and shining hallmark
is a block to their ink-ish repast
in New York it lies
off the lee to Cornell's place
where isolation and snow
would draw you in quite deep.
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