Oh, gentle, gentle summer rain!
Let not the silver lily pine,
The drooping lily pine in vain,
To feel that dewy touch of thine,
To drink thy freshness once again,
Oh, gentle, gentle summer rain! In heat the landscape quivering lies,
The cattle pant beneath the tree;
Through parching air and purple skies
The earth looks up, in vain, for thee;
For thee--for thee it looks in vain,
Oh, gentle, gentle summer rain! |
| Come thou, and brim the meadow streams,
And soften all the hills with mist, Oh, falling dew! From burning dreams
By thee shall herb and flower be kissed;
And earth shall bless thee yet again,
Oh, gentle, gentle summer rain! |
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