Through open windows I pretend
That rain asperses me, end to end.
Delayed for days, the stormclouds crackle,
Empty the fonts of their tabernacle;
Liquid jewels now race, now dally,
Pelt the deck-boards, flood the alley,
Moisten leaf and bark and radix,
Cleanse stem and stamen, spathe and spadix;
Awnings drool and downspouts splutter,
Spates flush grit from trough and gutter;
Upturned pails fill up and dribble,
A whirligig spins with a watery wibble;
And only as I write this last line
Do the rainclouds lift and the shy stars shine.