Packed in my mind lie all the clothes <br />Which outward nature wears, <br />And in its fashion's hourly change <br />It all things else repairs. <br />In vain I look for change abroad, <br />And can no difference find, <br />Till some new ray of peace uncalled <br />Illumes my inmost mind. <br /> <br />What is it gilds the trees and clouds, <br />And paints the heavens so gay, <br />But yonder fast-abiding light <br />With its unchanging ray? <br /> <br />Lo, when the sun streams through the wood, <br />Upon a winter's morn, <br />Where'er his silent beams intrude, <br />The murky night is gone. <br /> <br />How could the patient pine have known <br />The morning breeze would come, <br />Or humble flowers anticipate <br />The insect's noonday hum-- <br /> <br />Till the new light with morning cheer <br />From far streamed through the aisles, <br />And nimbly told the forest trees <br />For many stretching miles? <br /> <br />I've heard within my inmost soul <br />Such cheerful morning news, <br />In the horizon of my mind <br />Have seen such orient hues, <br /> <br />As in the twilight of the dawn, <br />When the first birds awake, <br />Are heard within some silent wood, <br />Where they the small twigs break, <br /> <br />Or in the eastern skies are seen, <br />Before the sun appears, <br />The harbingers of summer heats <br />Which from afar he bears.<br /><br />Henry David Thoreau<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-inward-morning/
