A long winding road

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 the 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.

John Keats, To One who has been Long in City Pent.

Long days, lots of driving, little time.