Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/27

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A Rain Dream.
21
Thirsty with play, in both his little handsShall take the cool, clear water, raising itTo wet his pretty lips. To-morrow noonHow proudly will the water-lily rideThe brimming pool, o'erlooking, like a queen,Her circle of broad leaves. In lonely wastes,When next the sunshine makes them beautiful,Gay troops of butterflies shall light to drinkAt the replenished hollows of the rock. Now slowly falls the dull blank night, and still,All through the starless hours, the mighty RainSmites with perpetual sound the forest leaves,And beats the matted grass, and still the earthDrinks the unstinted bounty of the clouds—Drinks for her cottage wells, her woodland brooks—Drinks for the springing trout, the toiling beeAnd brooding bird-drinks for her tender flowers,Tall oaks, and all the herbage of her hills.
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