I was reminded, this morning before I rose, of those undescribed ambrosial
mornings of summer which I can remember, when a thousand birds were heard
gently twittering and ushering in the light, like the argument to a new
canto of an epic and heroic poem. The serenity, the infinite promise, of
such a morning! The song or twitter of birds drips from the leaves like dew.
Then there was something divine and immortal in our life, when I have waked
up on my couch in the woods and seen the day dawning, and heard the
twittering of the birds.
source: Henry David Thoreau, Journal, March 1852
image: Bing/Images/Spring in the woods