 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
70
A DRY DITTY.
Oh, there has been a weary time
Of heat and dust and blight,
Since rain has blest the earth, and fringed
The leaves with drops of light.
The river, shrunken in its bed,
Keeps sadly murmuring,—
The frogs are silent all the night,
They have no heart to sing!
Of heat and dust and blight,
Since rain has blest the earth, and fringed
The leaves with drops of light.
The river, shrunken in its bed,
Keeps sadly murmuring,—
The frogs are silent all the night,
They have no heart to sing!
Men make strange faces at the sky,
And “think it looks like rain”—
Ah, that their hopeful prophecies
Are ventured all in vain!
That “all signs fail in time of drought,”
They willingly allow,
And weather-wisdom everywhere
Is at a discount now!
And “think it looks like rain”—
Ah, that their hopeful prophecies
Are ventured all in vain!
That “all signs fail in time of drought,”
They willingly allow,
And weather-wisdom everywhere
Is at a discount now!
On the parched roofs the shingles warp;—
The cisterns all are dry;—
The very spouts along the eaves
Yawn half-reproachfully;
And when to fan the passers-by,
A cooling breeze is given,
Dust-clouds, like a remonstrance, rise
Imploringly to heaven.
The cisterns all are dry;—
The very spouts along the eaves
Yawn half-reproachfully;
71
A cooling breeze is given,
Dust-clouds, like a remonstrance, rise
Imploringly to heaven.
Ladies walk out, as, rain or shine,
They always will and must,
But even their light foot-falls raise
A choking whirl of dust.
Low slippers lose their witchery,
White hose look sadly dim,
And little feet with gaiter-boots
Are in a sorry trim.
They always will and must,
But even their light foot-falls raise
A choking whirl of dust.
Low slippers lose their witchery,
White hose look sadly dim,
And little feet with gaiter-boots
Are in a sorry trim.
Come to the thirsty earth, oh, rain!
Come to the yellow grass!
Come to the crispéd leaves, that curl,
Dry rustling, as I pass!
Come, that all green things may rejoice!
Come, that the patient boat
Moored where the river used to be,
May be once more afloat!
Come to the yellow grass!
Come to the crispéd leaves, that curl,
Dry rustling, as I pass!
Come, that all green things may rejoice!
Come, that the patient boat
Moored where the river used to be,
May be once more afloat!
Come that the school-boys, who erewhile
Mope listless through the street,
May wade along in road-side ponds,
And wash their dusty feet!
Let mothers scold o'er muddy clothes,
And warning threats repeat,
Boys never can be boys but once,
And rain is such a treat!
Mope listless through the street,
May wade along in road-side ponds,
And wash their dusty feet!
72
And warning threats repeat,
Boys never can be boys but once,
And rain is such a treat!
Come rain, dear rain! 'mid nature's friends
I prize thee most of all;—
Alas, that one who loves thee so
Could glory in thy fall!—
Joy!—one of larger faith than I,
Most trustingly maintains
That “that after such a drought as this,
It almost always rains!”
I prize thee most of all;—
Alas, that one who loves thee so
Could glory in thy fall!—
Joy!—one of larger faith than I,
Most trustingly maintains
That “that after such a drought as this,
It almost always rains!”
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |