By degrees the Rat began to sit up and to join in. His dull eye brightened, and he lost some of his listening air.

Presently the tactful Mole slipped away and returned with a pencil and a few half-sheets of paper, which he placed on the table at his friend’s elbow. “It’s quite a long time since you did any poetry,” he remarked. “You might have a try at it this evening, instead of – well, brooding over things so much. I’ve an idea that you’ll feel a lot better when you’ve got something jotted down – if it’s only just rhymes.”

At Mole’s behest Ratty returns to poetry. What feeding of the soul do you need to return to?

Grahame, Kenneth. The Wind in the Willows. United Kingdom, Welbeck Editions, 2021. p165