The wind howls, the trees sway,
The loose house-top sheets clatter and clang,
The open window shuts with a bang,
And the sky makes night of the day.
Helter-skelter the parents run,
Pressed with a thousand minor cares:
‘Hey, you there! pack the house-wares!
And where on earth’s my son?
Home skip the little children:
‘Where have you been, you naughty boy?’ –
The child can feel nothing but joy,
For he loves the approach of the rain.
The streets clear, the houses fill,
The noise gathers as children shout
To rival the raging wind without,
And nought that can more is still–
A bright flash! –a lighted plain;
Then, from the once-black heavens,
Accompanied by noise that deafens,
Steadily pour the rain.
