After an ugly and prolonged threat of drought, soaking rain has fallen over the whole State, particularly where it was most needed.
We had waited, hoping, singing, Watching now the fields turn grey, Dying, as the hope was dying In our hearts day on grim day; Turning, listless, to dull duty, Watching, helpless, mute distress, As a cruel autumn beauty Mocked us, hard and pitiless. But it's raining! Man, it's raining! Hear it sounding, hear it singing Songs of hope! And, sorrow waning, Men again see fortune winging From the skies to end complaining, From the skies to waken mirth. Raining! Listen! Oh, it's raining Benison on all the earth. We had waited, dreams now dying As the lambs died in the fields. "Tis a drought year," men were sighing. "Gone all hope of goodly yields." We had waited, toiling, slaving While men, blaming heedless fate, Said, "All soon will be past saving. When it comes, 'twill come too late." But it's raining! Man, it's raining! In a thousand silent places. Toward high heaven, smiling, straining, Men lift up their glad, wet faces And their thanks asks no explaining, Asks for faith no further proof. For it's raining, raining, raining! Lashing, laughing on the roof. We had waited, fearing, doubting, As each promise dawned to die. Now despairing, men were shouting Curses to a smiling sky. "All a gamble," men were saying, As the parched fields turned to dust.... But, somewhere, a meek soul, praying, Smiled, and waited, full of trust. And it's raining! Lord, it's raining! Hear it sounding! See it splashing Where the grey fields are regaining Life anew. Oh, see it flashing Like a blessing, shining, gleaming, Gushing to the thirsty sod, Shattering men's ugly dreaming, Strengthening men's faith in God.
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2010|