What can the brown earth do,
Drenched and dripping through
To the heart, and dazzled by the sight
Of the light
That cometh after rain?
What can the hurt life do,
Healing through and through,
Caught and captured by the slow increase
Of the peace
That cometh after pain?
I would not miss the flower
Budded in the shower
That lives to lighten all the wealthy scene
Where rain has been,
That blossoms after pain!