XXIV
Upon the sky the moon and stars,
The forest full of voices,
And God spreads only love around
In which the world rejoices.
The murmurs in young foliage
Change to low sweet narration;
The world is gay and jubilant
And melts in osculation.
And yet I know that somewhere grief
Some youthful heart oppresses,
And that a secret bitter tear
Some young pale cheek caresses.