“On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely awaited their expedition.”

— Kenneth Grahame, book The Wind in the Willows

Source: The Wind in the Willows (1908), Ch. 7

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Kenneth Grahame83

British novelist 1859–1932

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