The Summer Shower

The Summer Shower

Sit I at the open window,

On this dewy Summer morn,

Where the honeysuckle blossoms

Mid a wealth of green are born;

Sit I, gazing outward, outward

Through the lazy, hazy air,

Breathing in the fragrant incense

To my senses wafted there.

There is dew upon the meadows,

Which the sunlight softly sips,

Kissing off the teeming nectar

From the daisy's pouting lips;

And resplendent jewels dangle

From the trees that skirt the way,

Like the eyes of angels glist'ning

In the coming light of day.

There are carols gaily floating

On the breeze that rustles by,

And the world's awak'ning murmurs

Through the latticed window sigh;

And I hear the quiet ripple

Of a stream that winds along,

O'er the yellow sand and pebbles,

With a never-ceasing song.

But the sun that opes the blossoms

Scarce has touched the grazzy lawn,

And that darkest dark hour vanished

Which precedes the coming dawn,

Ere the drift-clouds gather slowly

In the azure realm of light,

And with sad and tearful whispers

Throw aside their robes of white!

Then I hear the rain-drops patter,

As the cloudy pinions part,

As of spirit fingers tapping

At the window of one's heart!

And the birds upon the branches

Hide beneath the shelt'ring leaves,

Putting on the only garment

Which a kindly Nature weaves.

Sit I musing at the window,

While the rain-drops still are beating,

Dreaming of a form that haunts me,

And a treasured word repeating,

When a sunbeam, like that stealing

Through the golden gates of even,

Wipes away the tears that glistened

In the weeping eyes of heaven!

Thus, I muse, my wild heart throbbing,

Pass the tears which mortals shed,

And the sunshine of the morrow

Brings oblivion of the dead!

All our sorrows are as fleeting

As this sunny Summer shower,

And in new joys that are dawning

We forget each tearful hour!

Zelotes R. Bennett

1:49, p. 1

6.23.1860

From the N.Y. Saturday Press