And as I looked, a quickening gust of wind blew up to me,
And thrust into my face a miracle of orchard-breath,
And with the smell, I know not how such things can be!
I breathed my soul back into me.
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I, and hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound; Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high; I laughed and laughed into the sky...

-Edna St. Vincent Millay