After dark, when the camp was at rest,
I groped my way back to the altar boulder
and passed the night on it, — above the water,
beneath the leaves and stars, — everything
still more impressive than by day,
the fall seen dimly white, singing
Nature's old love song with solemn enthusiasm,
while the stars peering through the leaf-roof
seemed to join in the white water's song.
Precious night, precious day to abide in me forever.
Thanks be to God for this immortal gift.
John Muir, The Writings Of John Muir
