Whitman.3-ish

This, too, was one of the perfect days of spring.

From When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d

Pictures of growing spring, and farms, and homes,
With the Fourth-month eve at sundown, and the gray smoke lucid and bright,
With floods of the yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, sinking sun, burning, expanding the air;
With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of the trees prolific; ...

The violet and purple morn, with just-felt breezes;
The gentle, soft-born, measureless light;