Flood

O’er thirsty land, where grasses dry

And limp fade ‘neath the burning sky,

Now torrents pour from clouds aloft,

To knead the earth and make it soft.


Down floods the rain, unceasingly,

The empty streams now swell to be

A raging current, swiftly bound

Through forest, field, and sodden ground.


And still it pours from darkened skies,

Until no further can my eyes

See aught but mist and falling rain;

Oh, when shall come the sun again?

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