Walt Whitman(1819–1892) · Leaves of Grass · Sands at Seventy · 1888
Apple orchards, the trees all cover’d with blossoms; Wheat fields carpeted far and near in vital emerald green; The eternal, exhaustless freshness of each early morning; The yellow, golden, transparent haze of the warm afternoon sun; The aspiring lilac bushes with profuse purple or white flowers.