"There's no music like a little river's. It plays the same tune (and that's the favourite) over and over again, and yet does not weary of it like men fiddlers. It takes the mind out of doors; and though we should be grateful for good houses, there is, after all, no house like god's out-of-doors. And lastly, sir, it quiets a man down like saying his prayers."--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON: Prince Otto.

THE WOOD-NOTES OF THE VEERY

The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring:

So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie, I longed to hear a simpler strain, the wood-notes of the veery.