How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and the 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 struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout! Across the window-paneIt pours and pours; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide,Like a river down the gutter roarsThe 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 brainGrows calm again,And he breathes a blessing on the rain.
From the neighboring school Come the boys,
With more than their wonted noise And commotion;And down the wet streets Sail their mimic fleets, Till the treacherous poolEngulfs 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 inhaleThe clover-scented gale, And the vapors that ariseFrom the well-watered and smoking soil. For this rest in the furrow after toilTheir large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord,More than man"s spoken word.
Near at hand
From under the sheltering trees, The farmer seesHis pastures and his fields of grain, As they bend their topsTo the numberless beating drops Of the incessant1 rain.
He counts it as no sin That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain.
