in Thoreau’s Journal:

Methinks I have experienced a joy sometimes like that which yonder tree for so long has budded and blossomed—and reflected the green rays.

The opposite shore of the pond seen through the haze of a September afternoon, as it lies stretched out in grey content, answers to some streak in me.

December 3, 3016

I love to look aslant up the tree tops from some dell, and finally rest myself in the blueish mistiness of the white pines.