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Too long gone.
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.
- To One Who Has Been Long in City Pent, John Keats
My dad quoted the first line of this to me earlier tonight when we were out on his building's roof looking at the early night sky, and said I didn't get out of the city much. I asked him how it took him this long to notice.
'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.
- To One Who Has Been Long in City Pent, John Keats
My dad quoted the first line of this to me earlier tonight when we were out on his building's roof looking at the early night sky, and said I didn't get out of the city much. I asked him how it took him this long to notice.