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.