golden nature
During the sunset, with her pacing heart slow down, sitting in one corner, stroking the fern, feeling it gently, as if she could receive all that was sent, in peace, thanking that beautiful soul, like always.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.
_The Brook_ by Alfred Lord Tennyson
I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.
_The Brook_ by Alfred Lord Tennyson
It is almost impossible to watch a *sunset* and not *dream*. -Bernard Williams.
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