The Rainbow

When all the world is outward in the light, And all the colors of the world compose, When brighter oranges and violets arise, When yellow is the gold on every rose, All the sky is aflame with a beautiful blue, All the clouds don the softest white of muslin, Speeding like a winged spirit through the void.

But suddenly there is a storm— Grey, and deep, and rising really high, And a flashing lightning strikes down a tree. A bow bends straight, across the sky!

• David Herbert Lawrence