Rain, by Madison Cawein

  Around, the stillness deepened; then the grain
  Went wild with wind; and every briery lane
  Was swept with dust; and then, tempestuous black,
  Hillward the tempest heaved a monster back,
  That on the thunder leaned as on a cane;
  And on huge shoulders bore a cloudy pack,
  That gullied gold from many a lightning-crack:
  One big drop splashed and wrinkled down the pane,
  And then field, hill, and wood were lost in rain.

  At last, through clouds,—as from a cavern hewn.
  Into night's heart,—the sun burst angry roon;
  And every cedar, with its weight of wet,
  Against the sunset's fiery splendor set,
  Frightened to beauty, seemed with rubies strewn:
  Then in drenched gardens, like sweet phantoms met,
  Dim odors rose of pink and mignonette;
  And in the east a confidence, that soon
  Grew to the calm assurance of the moon.