By James Thomson
Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood
Rolls fair and placid: where collected all,
In one impetuous torrent down the steep
It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round.
At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad;
Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls,
And from the loud-resounding rocks below,
Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft
A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower.
Nor can the tortured wave here find repose:
But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks,
Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now
Aslant the hollow channel rapid darts;
And falling fast from gradual slope to slope,
With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar,
It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last,
Along the mazes of a quiet vale.
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It was nicer out on Sunday than it had been on Saturday, so after a fairly quiet morning during which Daniel got adjusted to east coast time, we went to Great Falls. There was a lot of construction and repair work going on in and out of the canal and on the towpath, but they had a new path to allow access to the river, so we got to see kayakers in the falls and ducks in the canal.
We had dinner and watched the New England-Dallas game with my parents (I think everyone was rooting for the Patriots but me, for although I would prefer someone else to win the NFC East, I choose what's good for the Ravens over what's bad for the Cowboys). Then we came home for Madam Secretary, on which I love Elizabeth but it's too much impeachment-is-always-political-B.S.
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