in Thoreau’s Journal:

The school-boy loitered on his way to school. 

Scorning to live so rare a day by rule.

So mild the air a pleasure ’t was to breathe.

For what seems heaven above was earth beneath.

Soured neighbors chatted by the garden pale. 

Nor quarrelled who should drive the needed nail; 

The most unsocial made new friends that day. 

As when the sun shines husbandmen make hay.

How long I slept I know not, but at last 

I felt my consciousness returning fast.

For Zephyr rustled past with leafy tread,

And heedlessly with one heel grazed my head.

My eyelids opened on a field of blue,

For close above a nodding violet grew;

A part of heaven it seemed, which one could scent. 

Its blue commingling with the firmament.