Striking sentence

From In Praise of Practical Fertilizer: Scenes from Chester Township by John Baskin:

To the untrained eye in a poor season, the country here is all isolation.

Now that's a sentence. You could sing to it. You could march to it. You could dance to it. Listen to the repetition of n's, the progression of vowel sounds, the conversational rhythm that almost scans. Its symmetrical half-lines would be at home in Beowulf. The word isolation dangling out there at the end of the sentence carries a weight of emptiness, like a black hole sucking in the entire universe. The meaning could have been expressed in several other ways, none of them quite so satisfying:

In a poor season, the country here is all isolation to the untrained eye.
The country here in poor season is all isolation to the untrained eye.
The country here is all isolation to the untrained eye in a poor season.

That last attempt inverts the original, but somehow season at the end of the sentence does not carry the impact the original sentence imparts to isolation.

It is a perfect sentence. I wish I had written it.