Henry David Thoreau,
May Morning
(1906)
“ 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. ”
