AFTER the winter rain,
Sing, robin ! — sing, swallow!
Grasses are in the lane,
Buds and flowers will follow.

Woods shall ring, blithe and gay,
With bird-trill and twitter,
Though the skies weep to-day,
And the winds are bitter.

Though deep call unto deep
As calls the thunder,
And white the billows leap
The tempest under;

Softly the waves shall come
Up the long, bright beaches,
With dainty flowers of foam
And tenderest speeches. . . .

After the wintry pain,
And the long, long sorrow,
Sing, heart!— for thee again
Joy comes with the morrow.