“The Waterfall”
“From fifty yards’ distance, the threads of the waterfall looked discrete, individual, unique. Theo mulled over the image of the lyre. It pleased him to think that each of these streams represented a specific string on the musical instrument of the falls. Nature had strung them on their rocky frame to make the music, which, given some separation, he could now enjoy. For he only needed these few yards to hear the waterfall as it was meant to be heard. Now it played its incessant downpour in such a soothing manner that it could have lulled even the meanest grump to passivity. It crackled like crushed foil; it poured like monsoon rains; and it vibrated like a nervous kitten.”