WOODLAND RAIN

Shining, shining children

Of the summer rain,

Racing down the valley,

Sweeping o’er the plain!

Rushing through the forest,

Pelting on the leaves,

Drenching down the meadow

With its standing sheaves;

Robed in royal silver,

Girt with jewels gay,

With a gust of gladness

You pass upon your way.

Fresh, ah, fresh behind you,

Sunlit and impearled,

As it was in Eden,

Lies the lovely world!

— BARMAN ougBGkcosi6OtfxEil0+YB7uTvVCNUpgKhbO+SD7iZzNG7Jlbqa6RskRwa78Oot/