Curious, the rain whence cometh down,
She falleth soft in overwhelming drops;
In peace, her quietly pervading sound
Transformeth sun and moon–so uninvited.
Strange, that once her drops, when they invade,
As former they, her forest’s ardour stops;
Though cities in the stead of trees pervade
And held as quiet sway–so unexcited.
Pleasing, how again she doth return
Such streets and buildings, parking lots and shops;
To older days for which they seem to yearn,
So mixt with all her fallen tears–united.
Older she than land they wrest; her crops,
If brick or straw are we–and unrequited.