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 as glided by:
E’en like the passage of an angel’s tear
That falls through the clear ether silently.
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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhiBhNM/Mountain+valley+meadow
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