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Poems

... by Sydney Owenson
 
 

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72

The Shower.

Which prevented the Author returning to School at the expiration of the Christmas Holydays.

I

I ne'er did hail thy orient red,
Sol, when thou leav'st thy eastern bed,
And o'er the world thy glories spread,
and radiant power,
As when thou'st earth-drawn vapours shed
in heavy shower!

II

And oft I upward cast mine eyes,
(Tho' not I ween o'er weather-wise)
And gladsome view the frowning skies;
while screaming crow
Proclaims the storm as high he flies,
to us below!

73

III

Now glad I hear the wind blow bleak,
View puss by fire her station take,
And grandmama loud moanings make
of shooting corn;
For rain these signs portentous speak,
and gloomy morn!

IV

Glad see I muddled streamlet stray,
Whose course no sun-beam renders gay,
Reflecting nought but wat'ry ray,
and dimpled o'er;
While goslings on its surface play
before the door!

V

The clear, pellucid drops I view,
As large they fall, tho' yet but few,
And sweet as Californian dew
to me appear;

74

Or stream that prophet Moses drew
From rocky source for murm'ring Jew,
in desart drear!

VI

Now glad I throw straw bonnet by,
For sure to school I cannot hie,
While flood Deucalion pours the sky,
t'arrest my feet;
And this excuse I'll plead so sly,
compulsion sweet.
 

California, in North America, where the dew falling on the rose leaves, congeals and becomes sweet as manna.