Trees shake their wet cloaks, and on us falls a shower; We laugh the louder, as down the road we run.See! there's a cowslip, and here's a fairies' bower, All made of violets; nodding to the sun.
Down in the East, where we still can hear the thunder, Over the cloud bends a misty, shining Bow.Right at the foot of it are hidden many wonders, It we can get there before the colors go.
Run, hand in hand, then, hair all a-dripping, Bare feet splashing thro' the puddles as we fly.Soft shines the Rainbow, as toward it we are tripping; The green earth is waving and smiling to the sky.
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