Tossed and like gnawing surf is Hilo’s rain—
Beach strewn with a tangle of thicket growth;
A billowy freshet pours in Wailuku;
Swoll’n is Wai-au, flooding the point Moku-pane;
And red leaps the water of Anue-nue.
A roar to heaven sends up Kolo-pule,
Shaking like thunder, mist rising like smoke.
The rain-cloud unfolds in the heavens;
Dark grows Hilo, black with the rain.
The skin of Hilo grows rough from the cold;