wordsworth on such an evening in 1818 wrote:
"composed upon an evening of extraordinary splendour and beauty"
no sound is uttered,--but a deep
and solemn harmony pervades
the hollow vale from steep to steep,
and penetrates the glades.
far-distant images draw nigh,
called forth by wondrous potency
of beamy radiance, that imbues,
whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues!
my dad said that his photography club had a sort of rule around depicting the contrails of jets in their photographs. i guess that's another reason i don't belong to clubs!!!
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