Pastoral poems were never so beautiful as when we got out of the Skodia Octavia at a Burger King and wandered over to the edge of the Moselle River on the border of Luxembourg and Germany in Trier. It was a gorgeous sunny summer day. Lush vegetation grew along the river’s edge. A walking path magically appeared and we lingered here like two devotees of Pan or Dionysus. It’s the kind of place that makes you drunk with beauty and leaves you quoting Keats, “Beauty is truth, Truth beauty, That’s all ye know on earth and all ye need to know.”