Classic Poem

As Asheepish country lad —
Walking out in time of roses —
Titivated by a glad
Tricksome lass with flower-posies,
Blushes redder than a rose is
Which a raging bee uncloses:
So, when rain has put to rout
Drought, which breeds such sorry stories,
Desert-places like the lout
Blush at unaccustomed glories:
Flowers red and pink and yellow
Blazing in the sunlight mellow.


When the new Medea, Rain,
Broadcasts on the barren plain
Silver seeds in countless number,
Busy seeds that barely slumber
Three days in the drunken mould
Ere they yield a crop of gold —
Then the desert, proud and glad in
Turning silver into gold,
Glories like the gay Aladdin
In its wondrous wealth unrolled,
In its flowers gold and yellow
Flaming in the sunlight mellow.