birtwhistle-cowshit

The thing about English folk music is it has no cowshit in it. It’s never rough that way.

Thought:

“

Nature’s dark side is heeded now—
    (Ah! optimist-cheer disheartened flown)—
  A child may read the moody brow
    Of yon black mountain lone.
  With shouts the torrents down the gorges go,
  And storms are formed behind the storm we feel:
The hemlock shakes in the rafter, the oak in the driving keel.

“

Herman Melville | “Misgivings”

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