From heights of drouth and heat,
The surly clouds for weeks were furled,
The air could only sway and beat.
The beetles clattered at the blind,
The hawks fell twanging from the sky,
The west unrolled a feathery wind,
And the night fell sullenly.
The storm leaped roaring from its lair,
Like the shadow of doom,
The poignard lightning searched the air,
The thunder ripped the shattered gloom.
The rain came down with a roar like fire,
Full-voiced and clamorous and deep,
The weary world had its heart’s desire,
And fell asleep.