INVOCATION TO RAIN
O BLESSED angel of the All-bounteous King,
Where dost thou stay so long? our sad hearts pine,
Our spirits faint for thee. Our weary eyes
Scan all the blue expanse, where not a cloud
Floats low to rest our vision. In vain we turn
Or east or west, no vaporous haze, nor view
Of distant panorama, wins our souls
To other worlds. All, all is hard and scant.