Thoreau writes in his journal:
Now the king of day plays at bo-peep round the world’s corner, and every cottage window smiles a golden smile,—a very picture of glee. I see the water glistening in the eye. The smothered breathings of awakening day strike the car with an undulating motion; over hill and dale, pasture and woodland, come they to me, and I am at home in the world.
