Summer Shower

The slim white birch is a lovely lady. She leans on the wind in the maple brush As the brook rebukes the hermit thrush, Curving its song where the world is shady.

From the throat of the bird no music comes; The unsubdued water roars on stone; A cloud, heaving shoulders like a roan, Fast flies the thunder's pommelling drums.

Down comes the rain, a vast winding sheet; Whistles the wind, lamenting loud, As cedar and hemlock bear the shroud With runlets laving their rooted feet.

And the cloudburst over, the leaves in turn Assume green shades of livelier green, As through the mist, the sun's gold screen Transfigures grass and feathery fern.

And the birch, renewed, nods in the air; She sways, and trembles ever so slightly, Wearing the cope of evening lightly And a coral comb in her wet green hair!