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Where the wood thrush forever sings…

Henry David Thoreau compared the song of the wood thrush to a ranz des vaches: “So there is something in the music of the cow bell, something sweeter and more nutritious, than in the milk which the farmers drink. This thrush’s song is a ranz des vaches to me. I long for wildness, a nature which I cannot put my foot through, woods where the wood thrush forever sings, where the hours are early morning ones, and there is dew on the grass, and the day is forever unproved, where I might have a fertile unknown for a soil about me.”

Source: Ranz des Vaches – Wikipedia


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