The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place.
For days the shepherds in the fields may be,
Nor mark a patch of sky - blindfold they trace,
The plains, that seem without a bush or tree,
Whistling aloud by guess, to flocks they cannot see.
......
rain
soft wet
dripping gathering weeping
mist shower drizzle stream
sprinkling pouring dropping
cold quiet
downfall
A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around -
They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground;
But the climate is erratic, and the consequences are
The struggle with the elements is everlasting war.
We plough, and sow, and harrow - then sit down and pray for rain;
And then we get all flooded out and have to start again.
But the folk are now rejoicing as they ne'er rejoiced before,
For we've played Molongo cricket, and M'Dougal topped the score!
Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us to play
......
The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one --
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.
I know the Bois is twinkling
......
There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim,
And never before or again,
When the nights are strong with a darkness long,
And the dark is alive with rain.
Never we know but in sleet and in snow,
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth
And the heart of the earth a star.
......
Raindrops whisper, pitter-patter,
Lullaby on rooftop tiles.
Gray clouds gather, shadows scatter,
World outside in soft exile.
Cozy nook, a steaming mug,
......
In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.
Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
......
You shall not speak to lightning
As if he were your mate
You shall count your fingers, beginning from
One rainy day to the last
Your bosom shall be cleansed
Before the first rain
If you peep through the door of rain
......
When the sinciput of the clouds cracks
for the first time,
accompanied by the lifting of the brows
of the sky,
and there is an eloquent ceremony in the
heavens' hall of grey,
it is Sacred Rain.
Restless rain comes when the front door
Opens to reveal two dragonflies mating
In mid-air —one male the other female.
Shafts of warm sunlight pierce through
Windowpanes of cathedrals, pointing to
Some frugal earnestness of heated air.
Winds are deceived in this distillation of
Burnished clouds with charged frontiers of
Rebelling seas, causing the retching of
Frolicking seagulls.
......