Summer Rainstorm
Sweet conversations, woodland incantationsAre thrilling through the tides of gale and shower, Which now conceal, Now blue-reveal,Across the fallow's russet undulationsA broken windmill and a silent tower.
And sometimes glancing through the top sprigs dancingElf-wings set out on visit and patrol. Though the full cloud Frowns monster-browed,Those merry wild-folk chirruping and chancingKnow the kind truth; would I had such a soul!
Joy's masque and fashion of Time's Samson-passionDeceives no lark that springs from weed and clod. Through their frank sight I feel the brightAngel-event of sunset's fresh creationAnd fields made lovely with the living God.
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