THE BAPTISM OF RAIN.
OH, how the bubbling rain comes down!
So wide apart were the headlong drops
At first, that you could run between
Without a wetting-- now it stops.
Those blurred and misty lines of blue,
That fringe the clouds o'er yonder hills,
Tell us of storm there, while a burst
Of sunshine all the valley fills.
Ah! Fresh and sweet the scent of leaves
And early flowers; in spots, the road,
Lately deep with tawny dust,
By the brimming brook is overflowed.
From greening trees a gush of melody
A grateful incense from the plain;
Joy! Praise! Beneath the breaking sky,
For God's baptism of the rain.