it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
Oh mirth! Is it the hidden play
Of the sun, of the rain, giving
The prism to break each ray
In effulgence of the living
Who alack and allay, fear
Sorrow, which as a rose
Upon which alights a tear;
But single, unless it dies
And come forth, as cries
Dear laughter, as nectar goes
Into honey, into night
And oh!
Sweetness and light.

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