in days gone by, but now, the farm sits idle
can you imagine what it was like the day they had to walk away and leave it behind?
The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window; a hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the air around; the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air: and the birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to them.
— Charles Dickens said that