Sweeping off the dire disease:
Thou dost bring the gentle rains;
Thou dost cool our feverish veins;
Thou dost kiss the strawberry flower,
Till its little wreath of snow
Swings its fragrance to and fro.
Thanks, too, thanks we give thee, lowly
Ha-wen-ne-yu, great and holy!
Maker wise! of all the sire—
Earth and water, air and fire!