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!
These, and far more than these, The Poet sees! He can behold, Aquarius old, Walking the fenceless fields of air! And from each ample fold, Of the clouds about him rolled, Scattering everywhere, the showery rain, As the farmer scatters his grain.
He can behold, Things manifold, That have not yet been wholly told, Have not been wholly sung nor said. For his thought, that never stops, Follows the water-drops, Down to the graves of the dead, Down through chasms and gulfs profound, To the dreary fountain-head, Of lakes and rivers under ground. And sees them, when the rain is done, On the bridge of colors seven, Climbing up once more to heaven, Opposite the setting sun.
Thus the Seer, With vision clear, Sees forms appear and disappear, In the perpetual round of strange, Mysterious change, From birth to death, from death to birth, From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth. Till glimpses more sublime, Of things, unseen before, Unto his wondering eyes reveal. The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel, Turning forevermore, In the rapid and rushing river of Time.
(The words are taken from “RAIN IN SUMMER” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The music is not based on the poem!)