I stepped onto the porch that night to think
Things over silently, and standing there
I saw upon the canvas of the sky
A stretch of white seemed to defy the push
Of wind that rolled it back. Beneath it surged
A strip of black that flashed with malice, full
And clear. The rain was rushing headlong toward
The place I stood. The thunder growled and shook
The rail, and tree leaves groaned in stark reply.
Oh, rain! dear army of the night, strike hard
And tell me I’m alive. Bring all your speed
And armaments, thrust back the clouds that hide
Your grace. Surge faster, stronger, make me feel
The power in your ancient ways. The wind
Picks up; it answers me. I reach to touch
What should be there. And then upon my hand
Outstretched, there fall the shimm’ring tears, and I
Can do no more, can do no less, then laugh
And dance. The rain has come to me again.