Oh, good gigantic smile o’ the brown old earth, 
This autumn morning! How he sets his bones 
To bask i’ the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet 
For the ripple to run over in its mirth; 
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones 
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet. 

–Robert Browning (1812–1889)