Rhythm of Rain

I

Out of the barrenness of earth,

And the meager rain-

Mile upon mile of exultant

Fields of grain.

Out of the dimness of morning-

Sudden and stark,

A hot sun dispelling

The hushed dark.

Out of the bleakness of living,

Out of unforgivable wrongs,

Out of the thin, dun soil of my soul-

These songs.

II

Only the rhythm of the rain

Can ease my sorrow, end my pain.

He was a wilful lad,

Laughter the burden he had;

Songs unsung haunted his mouth,

Velvet as soft airs from the languid south;

He was sprung from the dawn,

Flame-crested. He is gone!

Only the lashing, silver whips

Of the rain can still my lips . . .

Lynn Riggs

MADONNA

Few are the things that

do not die-

You and I and our love, Madonna;

Rain and trees and the blue sky,

And pain, Madonna.

What shall last and what

shall go-

Dream or snow or tears,

Madonna?

Death may stop at ebb or flow