Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.

Francis Bacon

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The River
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Ca sĩ: Elbow
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I walked with the river in a kind of a dream
Hand in hand the all knowing river and me
To the clamour of rushes and deeply bowing trees
And drunk making blossom that blushed to be seen
 
I told him my sorrows and broken down dreams
Confessed every lie
Replayed every scene
He openly wept as he listened to me
 
And then with the sun in the west
He showed me the sea