  THE sky’s great curtains downward steal, The earth’s fair company Of trees and streams and meadows feel A sense of privacy. Upon the vast expanse of heat Light-footed breezes pace; To waves of gold they tread the wheat, They lift the sunflower’s face. The cruel sun is blotted out, The west is black with rain, The drooping leaves in mingled doubt And hope look up again. The weeds and grass on tiptoe stand, A strange exultant thrill Prepares the dazed uncertain land For the wild tempest’s will. The wind grows big and breathes aloud As it runs hurrying past; At one sharp blow the thunder-cloud Lets loose the furious blast. The earth is beaten, drenched and drowned, The elements go mad; Swift streams of joy flow o’er the ground, And all the leaves are glad. Then comes a momentary lull, The darkest clouds are furled, And lo, new washed and beautiful And breathless gleams the world. |
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