This poem was written at the beginning of the 20th century to mark the end of the old century and beginning of the new. I will briefly summarize it by stanza.
I was outside leaning on a gate on a gloomy day when everyone else was inside.
The land looked desolate -- like a tomb for the old century. And it seemed like everything on earth was depressed like me.
But then I heard a joyful song from an old thrush.
I couldn't figure out what he had to be happy about. So all I can think is that he knows some reason to be happy that I don't know about.