We were miles from the nearest river hunting buff and the last thing I expected to see here was a hippo. Its amazing how easily they blend in with the shadows.
ALLEN W. JOHNSON - DRSS
Into my heart on air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again.
