On a train from Edinburgh to Stirling, Scotland's endless, easy-on-the-eye landscapes reminded me of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem we read in school. Then, I realised that Stevenson, being Scottish, might have been describing this very scenery in his poem:

From a Railway Carriage.
Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:

All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And here is the green for stringing the daisies!

Here is a cart runaway in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill, and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forever!

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