in Thoreau’s Journal:
The heaven is now broad & open to the earth in these longest days. The world can never be more beautiful than now—for combined with the tender fresh green you have this remarkable clearness of the air. I doubt if the landscape will by any greener… This tender foliage —putting so much light & life into the landscape is the remarkable feature at this date. The week when the deciduous trees are generally and conspicuously expanding their leaves.
Beautiful is the day that brings us home
From our domain of cold and winter bower,
From iron earth to trees in tassely flower,
And gentle airs, and the soft-springing loam.
Offhand and royal, we are the carefree lords
Of these sumptuous rooms where light flows green
These corridors of air, these feathery swards
Under a sky-blue ceiling, high and clean.
We lie on the enormous grassy bed
Sheltered as princes under mothering air
Where the anemone shines like a star,
And rivers flow through veined leaves overhead;
And hold each other close in the green chance,
Hold each other against time and waste,
Come home here in a spring that is only once
And watch how the birds are swift, yet without haste.
At last we inhabit the dream, are really floating
As princes of the hour, while these green palaces
Glide into summer, where we too are going
With all the birds, and leaves, and all the kisses.