Say, care-worn man, Whom Duty chains within the city walls, Amid the toiling crowd, how grateful plays The fresh wind oยer thy sickly brow, when free To tread the springy turf,โ to hear the trees Communing with the gales,โto catch the voice Of waters, gushing from their rocky womb, And singing as they wander... Spring-hours will come again, and feelings rise With dewy freshness oยer thy witherยd heart.
Robert MontgomeryA universal beauty clothes the world, And one heart seems to beat for all mankind!
Robert Montgomery