After the Storm

In wake of mistral dark and swift,

And rains’ torrential pour,

That floods the field and fills the ditch

And puddles on the moor,

A gleaming ray from passing clouds

Peeks out from darken’d mist,

And pierces through the dimmest shroud

To promise sunny bliss.

Soon, other beams of sunlit mirth

Reach down to fields below,

And paint with sparkling dew the turf

To verdure better show.

Thus, in the wake of thunderstorm,

A canvas vast is wrought,

And shimm’ring portrait gazed upon

Is never swift forgot.