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o one who has been long in city pent,'Tis very sweet to look into the fairAnd open face of heaven,--to breathe a prayerFull in the smile of the blue firmament.Who is more happy, when, with hearts content,Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lairOf wavy grass, and reads a debonairAnd gentle tale of love and languishment?Returning home at evening, with an earCatching the notes of Philomel,--an eyeWatching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,He mourns that day so soon has glided by:E'en like the passage of an angel's tearThat falls through the clear ether silently.
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