The Rain

the librarian I work for requested me to copy this poem, and I decided to place it up hear where hopefully the moth can not devour or the robber break in and steal.

                                 The Rain




                     the skies grow dim, blotting out the sun,
                      the clouds move in, stealing all shades save one,
                     gray, the color of rain is here,
                      accompanied with thunder, and a few silent tears.
                    
                   then lighting burns through the sky,
                    flashing through the unseen breeze,
                   and the clouds cry.

                  quietly at first, as the winds increase,
                  then rushing down in tempests, refuse to hold its peace.
                  dampening the dusty earth, splattering, splashing, giving up its worth,
                   to the thirsty ground.
                  
                   they go hurrying past in rivulets,
                   trickling to every brook,
                   whitening every river,
                   making puddles in every nook.

                  but finally they fade away,
                 till a few tardy coming quietly down,
                 dripping off every leaf and branch,
                sinking into the ground.

                and just in case lest we forget,
               one last display is shown,
               though Bifrost reaches up to the gods,
              to men, God's mercy had come down.
           

The Wind

             The wind was whispering in the trees, like a silent silver lance, a short lived wintry breeze, the chose the leaves to dance.

The wind was singing among the stones, like a sad and solemn bird.

Speaking of some holy bones, buried beneath a Christian stone,

To a sleeping world.

The wind was roaring around the rocks, like a lion for its prey,

A roar that at the Nemean it mocks, shattering the night time, and echoes into day.

The Fairy Queen

                                       The Fairy Queen

                                The fairy queen,

                                Was clad in green,

                                And danced beneath the Hemlocks tall,

                                For the trees made a roof for her woodland hall.

                       

                               

                               The hemlock boughs,

                               They made a wreath,

                               Or perhaps the sun’s shining sheath-

                               And moon’s soft beam.

                               The fairy queen,

                               Was clad in green,

                               And danced through a mossy dell:

                               For there a crystal spring did well.

                               And far away she did go,

                               And where she dances,

                               No man does know.