Rain in Summer. But now the fair traveller's come to the west, 197 Just such is the Christian! his course he begins But when he comes nearer to finish his race, Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace, WATTS. RAIN IN SUMMER. OW beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain! How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs ! How it gushes and and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout! Across the window pane It pours and pours; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain! The sick man from his chamber looks At the twisted brooks; He can feel the cool Breath of each little pool; His fevered brain Grows calm again, And he breathes a blessing on the rain. From the neighbouring school Come the boys, With more than their wonted noise And commotion; And down the wet streets Sail their mimic fleets, Till the treacherous pool Engulfs them in its whirling And turbulent ocean. In the country, on every side, Where far and wide, Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Stretches the plain, To the dry grass and the drier grain How welcome is the rain! In the furrowed land The toilsome and patient oxen stand; Lifting the yoke-encumbered head, With their dilated nostrils spread, They silently inhale The clover-scented gale, And the vapours that arise From the well watered and smoking soil. For this rest in the furrow after toil Rain in Summer. Their large and lustrous eyes More than man's spoken word. Near at hand, From under the sheltering trees, The farmer sees His pastures, and his fields of grain, As they bend their tops To the numberless beating drops Of the incessant rain. He counts it as no sin That he sees therein Only his own thrift and gain. These, and far more than these, The poet sees! He can behold Aquarius old Walking the fenceless fields of air; And from each ample fold Of the clouds about him rolled, Scattering everywhere The showery rain, As the farmer scatters his grain. He can behold Things manifold, That have not yet been wholly told,- Follows the water-drops Down to the graves of the dead, Down through chasms and gulfs profound, 199 Of lakes and rivers under ground; And sees them, when the rain is done, Thus the Seer, With vision clear, Sees forms appear and disappear, In the perpetual round of strange, Mysterious change From birth to death, from death to birth, From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth; Till glimpses more sublime Of things, unseen before, Unto his wondering eyes reveal The universe, as an immeasurable wheel Turning for evermore In the rapid and rushing river of time. LONGFELLOW. BIRDS IN SUMMER. OW pleasant the life of a bird must be, In the leafy trees so broad and tall, And the frolicsome winds, as they wander by! They have left their nests in the forest bough, Birds in Summer. And the young and old they wander out, "Come up, come up, for the world is fair, Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air!" And the birds below give back the cry, "We come, we come to the branches high! How pleasant the life of a bird must be, Living in love in a leafy tree, And away through the air what joy to go, And to look on the green bright earth below! How pleasant the life of a bird must be, And then wheeling away to its cliff-built home! By a strong free wing, through a rosy morn, To meet the young sun, face to face, And pierce, like a shaft, the boundless space! To pass through the bowers of the silvery cloud, Right on through the arch of the sunlit bow, 201 |