A stroll at dawn brings William Wordsworth, “Lines Written in Early Spring” to mind.

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:—

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If you’ve been here in early spring, you know.

~Joy