" HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THE RAIN "

How beautiful is the rain !
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain !

How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs !
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout !

Across the window-pane
It pours and pours ;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain the welcome rain !

The sick man from his chamber looks
At the twisted brooks ;
He can feel the cool
Breath of each little pool ;
His fevered brain
Grows calm again,
And he breathes a blessing on the rain.

From a neighbouring school
Come the boys,
With more than their wonted noise
And commotion ;
And down the wet streets
Sail their mimic fleets,
Till the treacherous pool
Engulfs them in its whirling
And turbulent ocean.

In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain !

In the furrowed land
The toilsome and patient oxen stand ;
Lifting the yoke-encumbered head,
With their dilated nostrils spread
They silently inhale
The clover-scented gale,

And the vapours that arise
From the well-watered and smoking soil,
For this rest in the furrow after toil
Their large and lustrous eyes
Seem to thank the Lord,
More than man's spoken word.

Near at hand,
From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees
His pastures, and his fields of grain,
As they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain.
He counts it as no sin
That he sees there in
Only his own thrift and gain.

" THE USEFUL PLOUGH "

A country life is sweet !
In moderate cold and heat,
To walk in the air, how pleasant and fair,
In every field of wheat,
The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers,
And every meadow's brow !
So that I say, no courtier may
Compare with them who clothe in grey,
And follow the useful plough.

They rise with the morning lark,
And labour till almost dark ;
Then folding their sheep, they hasten to sleep ;
While every pleasant park
Next morning is ringing with birds that are singing,
On each green tender bough.
With what content and merriment
Their days are spent, whose minds are bent
To follow the useful plough !

" UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE "

Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat ---
Come hither, come hither, come hither !
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun
And loves to love i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets ---
Come hither, come hither, come hither !
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

" THE COCK IS CROWING "

The Cock in crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter,
The green field sleeps in the sun ;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest,
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising ;
There are forty feeding like one !

Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill ;
The ploughboy is whooping --- anon --- anon ;
There's joy in the mountains ;
There's life in the fountains ;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing ;
The rain is over and gone !

" SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG "

He that is down, needs fear no fall ;
He that is low, no pride ;
He that is humble, ever shall
Have God to be his guide.

I am content with what I have,
Little be it or much ;
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,
Because Thou savest such.

Fulness to such a burden is,
That go on pilgrimage ;
Here little, and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age.

" THE BLIND BOY "

O say what is that thing called Light,
Which I must never enjoy ;
What are the blessings of the sight,
O tell your poor blind boy !

You talk of wondrous things you see ;
You say the sun shines bright,
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night ?

My day or night myself  I make
Whenever I sleep or play :
And could I ever keep awake
With me 'twere always day.

With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe ;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I never can know.

Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy ;
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.

" THE CHILD AND THE SNAKE "

Henry was, every morning fed
With a full mess of milk and bread.
One day the boy his breakfast took,
And ate it by a purling brook.
His mother lets him have his way.
With free leave Henry everyday
Thither repairs, until she heard
Him talking of the fine gray bird.
This preety bird, he said, indeed,
Came everyday with him to feed ;
And it loved him and loved his milk,
And it was smooth and soft like silk.
On the next morn she follows Harry,
And carefully she sees him carry
Through the long grass his heaped-up mess.
What was her terror and distress
When she saw the infant take
His bread and milk close to a snake !
Upon the grass he spreads his feast,
And sits down by his frightful guest,
Who had waited for the treat ;
And now they both began to eat.
Fond mother ! shriek not, O beware
The least small noise, O have a care
The least small noise that may b made
The wily snake will be afraid ---
If he hear the slightest sound,
He will inflict th' envenom'd wound.
---She speaks not, moves not, scarce does breathe,
As she stands the trees beneath.
No sound she utters ; and she soon
Sees the child lift up his spoon,
And tap the snake upon the head,
Fearless of harm ; and then he said,
As speaking to familiar mate,
'Keep on your own side, do, Gray Pate' ;
The snake then to the other side,
As one rebuked, seems to glide
And now again advancing nigh,
Again she hears the infant cry,
Tapping the snake, ' keep further, do ;
'Mind. Gray Pate, what I say to you.
The danger's o'er ! she sees the boy
(O what a change from fear to joy !)
Rise and bid the snake "Good-bye' ;
Says he, ' Our breakfast's done, and I
Will come again to-morrow day' ;
--- Then, lightly tripping, ran away.