(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.