After the Rain
The Rain has ceased, and in my room
The sunshine pours an airy flood;
And on the church’s dizzy vane
The ancient Cross is bathed in blood.
From out the dripping ivy-leaves,
Antiquely carven, gray and high,
A dormer, facing westward, looks
Upon the village like an eye.
And now it glimmers in the sun,
A square of gold, a disc, a speck:
And in the belfry sits a Dove
With purple ripples on her neck.