Blue Remembered Hills

In the foreground a very young larch, an outrider in a largely treeless landscape. Far off in the background, the hills of North West Sutherland.
    
     Into my heart an air that kills
     From yon far country blows:
     What are those blue remembered hills,
     What spires, what farms are those?

     That is the land of lost content,
     I see it shining plain,
     The happy highways where I went
     And cannot come again.

Except we can, and we do.