Poems (Blind)/Echoes of Spring/X.

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X.
With thousand gaps the earth is split, By sunbeams wounded o'er and o'er,My heart, it acheth bit by bit; Life's heat and dust have made it sore.
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When wilt thou fall from clouds above, In silver showers, refreshing rain?When wilt thou come, reviving love, With dew, and make me whole again?
A little while, big drops will slake, Oh, earth, thy thirst's hot agony;But till my fevered heart doth break, Will solace ever come to me?
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