A Good Day is a Day Spent Bus Driving

A good day is a day spent bus driving

On some light hour a little refuse pane

Tell the light antics of a playful breeze;

Or some wild bird comes at a heavenly arm,

Which the soft woods with tangled sounds pursue.

Then count all voices in the stream and leaf

Wakes from its music some easy retreat;

An evening sound that writes in its tone.

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