For most of the day and into the night, a furious storm rages, its wind and rain howling as if in angry joy. The earth is reduced to a choked, gulping effort to absorb the deluge, barely heard beneath the din. Then, without warning, the dumb source of a river—some silent underground spring—suddenly breaks free. Its voice drowns out the storm entirely, bellowing like a giant bathing in mighty mirth. The speaker captures a moment of pure, elemental reversal: the air’s noisy triumph is swallowed by the earth’s deeper, more joyful roar. The mood shifts from turbulent and oppressive to something close to exhilaration. It’s not just a change in sound, but a feeling that the earth has finally reclaimed its power, letting out a laugh that shakes the world.
The Source — Summary
ALL day the air triumphs with its two voices Of wind and rain As loud as if in anger it rejoices, Drowning the sound of earth That gulps and gulps in choked endeavour vain To swallow the rain.
Half the night, too, only the wild air speaks With wind and rain, Till forth the dumb source of the river breaks And drowns the rain and wind, Bellows like a giant bathing in mighty mirth The triumph of earth.