224
Rain
Of waggons, with their awnings arched and tall,
Struggling in sweat and steam, toil slowly by
With outline vague as of a funeral.
Into the ruts, unbroken, regular,
Stretching out parallel so far
That when night comes they seem to join the sky,
For hours the water drips;
And every tree and every dwelling weeps,
Drenched as they are with it,
With the long rain, tenaciously, with rain
Indefinite.
Struggling in sweat and steam, toil slowly by
With outline vague as of a funeral.
Into the ruts, unbroken, regular,
Stretching out parallel so far
That when night comes they seem to join the sky,
For hours the water drips;
And every tree and every dwelling weeps,
Drenched as they are with it,
With the long rain, tenaciously, with rain
Indefinite.
The rivers, through each rotten dyke that yields,
Discharge their swollen wave upon the fields,
Where coils of drowned hay
Float far away;
And the wild breeze
Buffets the alders and the walnut trees;
Knee-deep in water great black oxen stand,
Lifting their bellowings sinister on high
To the distorted sky;
As now the night creeps onward, all the land,
Thicket and plain,
Grows cumbered with her clinging shades immense,
And still there is the rain,
The long, long rain,
Like soot, so fine and dense.
Discharge their swollen wave upon the fields,
Where coils of drowned hay
Float far away;
And the wild breeze
Buffets the alders and the walnut trees;
Knee-deep in water great black oxen stand,
Lifting their bellowings sinister on high
To the distorted sky;
As now the night creeps onward, all the land,
Thicket and plain,
Grows cumbered with her clinging shades immense,
And still there is the rain,
The long, long rain,
Like soot, so fine and dense.
The long, long rain,
Rain—and its threads identical
And its nails systematical,
Rain—and its threads identical
And its nails systematical,
Weaving
