Poetry of Rhymes and Nonsense

Rain Returns

She sits by the rain,
   watches through glass panes,
And hears its song echo
    against stone and metal.

The tree branches droop,
    the tall flowers stoop
And rest from the weight
    of providence magnate.

The air is so hot
   from the dry time it brought,
But cool wet drops
   from the world's sunny top—

For everything good likes the rain.