“Say, care-worn man,
Whom Duty chains within the city walls,
Amid the toiling crowd, how grateful plays
The fresh wind o’er thy sickly brow, when free
To tread the springy turf,— to hear the trees
Communing with the gales,—to 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 o’er thy wither’d heart.”

Robert Montgomery, Beautiful Influences,  A Vision of Heaven; and A Vision of Hell; 1829

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