Gentle Rain

The gentle rain falls soft and low, A balm to every thirsty sprout, Like whispered songs of long ago, It hums through leaves, the air about.

Each drop a note, a lullaby, That caresses earth with tender grace, As clouds embrace the rolling sky, The world finds a pacifying space.

In every flower that lifts its head, A thirst quenched by the charming fall, And every brook, where nature said, The song of rain is the heart’s call.

• Mary Webb