48 (the darkly veiled june)

THE DARKLY veiled June has come once again

redolent of the rain-soaked earth;

my heart that had grown weary and old

answers to the call of the marching clouds,

overcome with the sudden rush of life's turbulence.

Shadows sweep over the young grass

on the vast lonely meadows;

and my blood surges up with the cry:

It has come, has come to my eyes, to my breast,

to my voice that sings in gladness.

 

 

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