Den.

Priest and poet Robert Stephen Hawker's poetry-writing den (above), built into a Cornwall hillside overlooking the Atlantic.  

ARE THEY NOT ALL MINISTERING SPIRITS?

We see them not--we cannot hear

   The music of their wing--

Yet know we that they sojourn near,

   The Angels of the spring!

They glide along this lovely ground

   When the first violet grows;

Their graceful hands have just unbound

   The zone of yonder rose.

I gather it for thy dear breast,

   From stain and shadow free:

That which an Angel's touch hath blest

   Is meet, my love, for thee!

Robert Stephen Hawker

Hawker excommunicated his cat from the hideaway for Sunday-mousing.  Well-done.