while he walked in the direction of the morning sun , he gave thanks for the beauty of the world , broken as it was , for the fragrance of the dew dampened leaves that he breathed in with deep pleasure , the sounds of the birds that he heard with delight , the fresh coolness of the stream water that he found by its song that beckoned and guided him , and for his memories of the colors of dying leaves so vivid in the slanted light just after dawn , just before dusk .