The Spring Storm
I love the storm in early May,
When spring’s first maiden thunder peals,
And, laughing in its frolic play,
Across the blue sky softly steals.
The little rumblings roll and ring;
The rain-shower glistens; flies the dust;
The rain-drop pearls in clusters cling,
And golden gleams the fields encrust.
From hillside headlong speeds the rill,
In groves the birds keep twittering,
And chattering wood and murmuring hill
Echo with joy the thundering.