Sonnets at the English Lakes | ||
70
LXX. RAIN AFTER DROUGHT.
Behind Wansfell the dry North-Easter stayed,The Firs stood silent, late in music bowed;
From out the West there came a little cloud,
Soon for the flocks was pleasant moisture made:
But still the sower plied his rhythmic trade,
No dalliance now his precious task allowed;
The yellowing lines his dusty horse had ploughed
Breathed odorous breath, and took a darker shade.
I wandered out in that mysterious hour;—
Fragrance of praise from every bud had burst,
The moss was quick, the daffodil in flower,
And violets showed the bluest and the first;
I felt the pity of the passing shower,
The hope in Nature's long-enduring thirst.
Sonnets at the English Lakes | ||