Comes now the rain! the flower sang unto the sky,
a cold, refreshing bath for petals bak'd in heat,
a beaded ornament for leaves so hot and dry,
to wet the parchéd throats of roots, so cool and sweet.
The khaki dirt absorbs the gift, and soon's as black
as depths of night, no longer hard like rock and stone,
but soft, and warm, and rich; its life has blossom'd back,
and roots draw in the finest feast the flower's known.
Comes now the rain! to wash the dust and render clean,
to nourish and revive, and to the plant enthrone;
for only water makes the plant grow hale and green:
Come now the rain! life-giving bath to make pristine!
