The work brought that prose forth quite easily.
thanks for the writing inspiration
and this is real nice...thank you
Always dear to me was this solitary hill
and this hedge, which, from so many parts
of the far horizon, the sight excludes.
But sitting and gazing endless
spaces beyond it, and inhuman
silences, and the deepest quiet,
I fake myself in my thoughts; where almost
my heart scares. As the wind
I hear rustling through these trees, I, that
infinite silence, to this voice
keep comparing: and I feel the eternal,
the dead seasons, the present,
and living one, and the sound of her. So in this
immensity drown my own thoughts:
and sinking in this sea is sweet to me.