afterwards there was a cast of sawdust the earth trembling quiet, and spirits of the forest winnow while the daguerreotype blackened— a voice of maudlin nostalgia rasps unintelligible; but still i listen. resting upon the tree stump (its name 'sui generis' was) i'm conscious that weeks gone by what i heard were likely Silverstein's homilies …
"over the hills and far away"
The-Bleu-Bivouac 