Summer Rain

Thick lay the dust, uncomfortably white, In glaring mimicry of Arab sand. The woods and mountains slept in hazy light; The meadows looked athirst and tawny tanned; The little rills had left their channels bare, With scarce a pool to witness what they were; And the shrunk river gleamed ’mid oozy stones, That stared like any famished giant’s bones. Sudden the hills grew black, and hot as stove The air beneath; it was a toil to be. There was a growling as of angry Jove, Provoked by Juno’s prying jealousy— A flash—a crash—the firmament was split, And down it came in drops—the smallest fit To drown a bee in fox-glove bell concealed; Joy filled the brook, and comfort cheered the field.