Richard Jefferies (1848-1887)

How many words has it taken to describe so briefly the feelings and the thoughts that came to me by the tumulus; thoughts that swept past and were gone, and were succeeded by others while yet the shadow of the mound had not moved from one thyme-flower to another, not the breath of a grass blade… The silk grass sighs as the wind comes carrying the blue butterfly more rapidly than his wings, A large humble-bee burrs round the green dome against which I rest; my hands are scented with thyme. The sweetness of the day, the fullness of the earth, the beauteous earth, how shall I say it?
 
Richard Jefferies. The Story of my Heart (1883). Chapter III.