  There was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in floods: But now the sun is rising calm and bright, The birds are singing in the distant woods, Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods, The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters, And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters. All things that love the sun are out of doors, The sky rejoices in the morning's birth, The grass is bright with rain-drops;—on the moors The hare is running races in her mirth; And with her feet, she from the plashy earth Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun, Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run. Wordsworth For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. Solomon's Song. II, 11, 12 |
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