OH, how the bubbling rain comes down! 

So wide apart were the headlong drops 

At first, that you could run between 

Without a wetting-- now it stops.

Those blurred and misty lines of blue, 

That fringe the clouds o'er yonder hills,

Tell us of storm there, while a burst 

Of sunshine all the valley fills.

Ah! Fresh and sweet the scent of leaves 

And early flowers; in spots, the road,

Lately deep with tawny dust,

By the brimming brook is overflowed.

From greening trees a gush of melody 

A grateful incense from the plain;

Joy! Praise! Beneath the breaking sky, 

For God's baptism of the rain.