Poems (Hoffman)/Rain on the Mown Grass
RAIN ON THE MOWN GRASS
(He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass:as showers that water the earth."—Ps. 72:6.)
The sweet wild roses are nodding farewell To the beautiful month of May,While the wind-sprites waft on their sunlit-wings The aroma of new-mown hay.
June, frolicking midst the orange groves And palms of the southern clime,Heard the voice of Summer among the pines And hastened to be in time.
She came o'er the fields with a lightsome step, The berries with gladness flushed,While the roses greeting their virgin queen A deeper crimson blushed.
The asphodel waves on the bare hill-slopes And down by the crystal spring,The birds from the alder's inviting shade Their June-time carols sing.
The fishes are swimming lazily O'er the sands of the pebbly brook,While smiling June wreathes the wild grape-vine O'er many a cozy nook.
But a change comes over her radiant face, One sigh the Summer hears,And the eyes of her fair young princess Are overflowing with tears.
Has she thought of the frosts of Autumn Making her leaves a tomb,Or does she mourn that her roses Are withering as they bloom?
But look, there's a smile on her tearful face Unknown to foreboding fears;Happy June is but weeping for gladness, She waters her fields with her tears.
Down on the new-mown grasses And stubble, the cool showers pour,The thirsty land drinks up the rain-drops And eagerly asks for more.
Down on the drouth and barrenness As an answer to Nature's prayer,The rose may drink of the cooling flood And the weeds may have a share.
So over Life's hard, dry stubble, From heavens of burnished brass,The mercy of God is descending As rain on the new-mown grass.