Out came the sun,
And sullen morning melted
To sparkling laughter
And bright tears again,
As from the cloud
The shower backward pelted
A slanting handful
Of white splintered rain.
A flurry of jewels,
Star-gold scattered at noon,
In irised beads
And iridescent spears,
Till earth is a treasure trove
Thickly bestrewn
With sapphire sprays
And rounded turquoise tears.
Down the wet hillside
Comes the haunting scale
Of the cuckoo, lost
In the magpie's liquid note.
Pouring soft warblings
Through the sun-warmed vale,
A pain of ecstasy
From his golden throat.
Ere the pearls have slipped
From the broad nasturtium leaf,
And the trees have ceased
To drip green diamonds,
Heaven and earth
Are reflected in the brief
Broken mirrors
Of little gathered ponds.
The winds have shaken
The pointed gumtips dry,
And the sun pours forth
His ardent gold again.
And back to her boundless
Coffers of blue the sky
Has gathered the ransomed
Treasury of the rain.
First published in The Bulletin, 13 August 1930
