Drenched boughs to a pattering show'r
Athwart the red dusk in a glow'r,
Big drops heard hard on each flow'r
On the grass and the flowering moss.
VII.
And then for a minute, may be,—
A pearl—hollow worn—of the sea,—
A glimmer of moon will smile;
Cool stars rinsed clean on the dusk,
A freshness of gathering musk