58 (let all the strains of)
LET ALL THE strains of joy mingle in my last song-the joy that makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws
everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.