The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Proserpine, With her stole of wreathèd flowers, Her hair over her arm did twine, The woman on my garden bowers, She hid in a jewel of showers.

I felt my heart in my breast beat fast: I knew the storm about to burst; For the wind did howl and the rain poured vast, But a vision came to me of comfort first; I prayed my prayer and the tempest cursed.

• Robert Browning