RAIN
We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed
The white of their leaves, the amber grain
Shrunk in the wind,—and the lightning now
Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain.
A little rain will fill
The lily's cup which hardly moists the field.
She waits for me, my lady Earth,
Smiles and waits and sighs;
I'll say her nay, and hide away,
Then take her by surprise.
How it pours, pours, pours,
In a never-ending sheet!
How it drives beneath the doors!
How it soaks the passer's feet!
How it rattles on the shutter!
How it rumples up the lawn!
How 'twill sigh, and moan, and mutter,
From darkness until dawn.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.</poem>
And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
The ceaseless rain is falling fast,
And yonder gilded vane,
Immovable for three days past,
Points to the misty main.
It is not raining rain to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on distant hills.
He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass.
For the rain it raineth every day.
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
I know Sir John will go, though he was sure
it would rain cats and dogs.
The Clouds coilsign their treasures to the fields;
And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool
Prelusive drops; let all their moisture flow,
In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world.
RAINBOW
God's glowing covenant.
And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
The rainbow brightens to the setting Sun.
Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep
From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high
The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.
Over her hung a canopy of state,
Not of rich tissue, nor of spangled gold,
But of a substance, though not animate,
Yet of a heavenly and spiritual mould,
That only eyes of spirits might behold.
O beautiful rainbow;—all woven of light!
There's not in thy tissue one shadow of night;
Heaven surely is open when thou dost appear,
And, bending above thee, the angels draw near,
And sing,—"The rainbow! the rainbow!
The smile of God is here."
God loves an idle rainbow,
No less than laboring seas.
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven;
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of common things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings.
Pride of the dewy morning,
The swain's experienced eye
From thee takes timely warning,
Nor trusts the gorgeous sky.
