When the warm-summer sun, that browns
Trees and every plant, begins to return again
To longitudinal distance and sets down
His entity the horizon, comes the season of rain.

I love the season, and take smell
Of the forest's ferny floor that thrives
And the dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming storms, that revives.

From the earth's soaked ground
The new saplings suck their sustenance.
Pestilence-stricken trees, drooping year round-
Get vitality year after, and again dance.

Clouds overcast the skies every afternoon
When a darksome veil enshrouds hill and plain;
Thereafter the heaven spills water, an oozing boon.
Lately, but ending of the earth's live-long pain.

When the earth craves, the skies keep plight
To fill the beings with provision and water.
The opening of the threshold of hope and light
Is initiated with coming of rain, the sea-daughter.

Amid all, a softly warbled song blows-spellbound
Over the hill, over the plain, through bush or brier;
That makes us sleep and brings happiness-profound
Throughout the rainy season, so dear.