The Little Rain
Oh! she is good, the little rain! and well she knows our need Who cometh in the time of spring to aid the sun-drawn seed; She wanders with a friendly wind through silent nights unseen, The furrows feel her happy tears, and lo! the land is green.
Last night cloud-shadows gloomed the path that winds to my abode, And the torches of the river-boats like angry meteors glowed. To-day fresh colours break the soil, and butterflies take wing Down broidered lawns all bright with pearls in the garden of the King.