To one who has been long in
city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And
open face of heaven,--to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue
firmament.
Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,
Fatigued he sinks into some
pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a
debonair
And gentle tale of love and
languishment?
Returning
home at evening, with an ear
Catching the notes of
Philomel,--an eye
Watching the sailing
cloudlet's bright career,
He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
E'en like the passage of
an angel's tear
That falls through the clear
ether silently.
- John Keats
This work is in the public domain.