[THE RAIN CLOUD.]
Swift changed to storm tones is the golden air,
And shut the heavens with the descending veil
Of cloud,—here warm and brown, there cold and pale,
White-veined with sudden fire and red with glare.
Now falls the twisted rain, like unbound hair,
Dusking the wooded hills and mountain trail,
Now, marshalled by the trumpets of the gale,
Sweeps wide with level lances to their blare.
O rain cloud, minister of cooling dew
To waiting harvests sheathed in mystery,
Bearer of blessed balms for fevered ills!
Thy rending veil breaks on the holiest blue,
All quick and palpitant as angels see,
And God's smile falls upon the breathing hills.
[THE ROSE.]
Five-petaled splendor set in hillside place,
Parent of queenly sisterhood that stir
To every garden wind, and swift confer
Attar to pour from out each precious vase!
Symbol of secrecy to Latin race,
Virtue and blood to York and Lancaster,
Thy tint de Pompadour sweet arts transfer
To Sevres', and erst "rose noble" bore thy grace.
To me thou art the glow of secret heat
That burneth at the heart of day and night,
An odorous flush of beauty without blame,—
Love's oriel wherethrough my eyes discreet
May look far in beyond the outward sight
And, unconsumëd, see His fiery flame.