Poem by William Ernest Henley

Echoes. 23. The Skies Are Strown with Stars

The skies are strown with stars,
   The streets are fresh with dew
A thin moon drifts to westward,
The night is hushed and cheerful.
   My thought is quick with you.

Near windows gleam and laugh,
   And far away a train
Clanks glowing through the stillness:
A great content’s in all things,
   And life is not in vain.

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