In morning gray or leaden eve,
When clouds command the sun to leave,
And windsongs through the forest weave,
On crystal wing it comes again.
The floating music fills the trees,
And drifts away on scented breeze,
Across the day, the night to please,
And into dusk, the mellow strain.
Above the calm, the thunder humming,
Along the clouds, the lightning running,
Chasing darkness in its coming
A rumbling sigh, a hushed refrain.
Softly on a tin roof drumming,
The chords of life the droplets strumming,
Rivers on the window running,
A summer day, a summer rain.