Ein Gedicht von John Burroughs, für die mehr-als-60-jährigen insomniacs unter uns:
He sought the old scenes with eager feet--
The scenes he had known as a boy;
"Oh, for a draught of those fountains sweet,
And a taste of that vanished joy!"
He roamed the fields, he wooed the streams,
His schoolboy paths essayed to trace;
The orchard ways recalled his dreams,
The hills were like his mother's face.
O sad, sad hills! O cold, cold hearth!
In sorrow he learned this truth--
One may return to the place of his birth,
He cannot go back to his youth.
see: Slide Mountain - auf den Spuren von Thomas Cole and John Burroughs
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georgb
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