To one who has been long in city pent

     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.