Foliage/Thunderstorms

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London: E. Mathews, page 9

THUNDERSTORMS

My mind has thunderstorms,
That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words,
My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.

Yet come, dark thunderstorms.
And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.