06 November 2013

Singing in the Rain - An 1858 Nebraska Poem

By Florence Percy.
Where the elm tree branches
By the creek are stirred,
Careless of the shower
Swings a little bird; —
Clouds may frown and darken,
Drops may fall in vain,
Little cares the warbler
Singing in the rain!
Silence, soft, unbroken,
Reigneth everywhere,
Save the rain's low heart-throb
Beating on the air, —
Save the song, which, pausing,
With no answering s'main, —
Little cares the wild-bird
Singing in the rain!
Not yet are the orchards
Rich with rosy snow, —
Nor with dandelions
Are the fields a-glow, —
Yet almost, my fancy
In his song's soft flow,
Hear the June leaves whisper,
And the roses blow!
Dimmer fall the shadows,
Mistier grows the air, —
Still the thick clouds gather
Darkening here and there, —
From their heavy fringes
Pour the drops again —
Still the bird is swinging,
Singing in the rain.
Oh, thou helpful singer,
Whom my faith perceives
To a dove transfigured
Bringing olive leaves,
Olive leaves of promise,
Types of joy to be —
How in doubt and trial,
Learns my heart in thee;
Cheerful summer-prophet!
Listening to thy song
How my failing spirit
Growth glad and strong!
Let the dark clouds gather,
Let the sunshine wane,
If I may but join thee
Singing in the rain!
July 1, 1858. Bellevue Gazette 2(32): 1.