Classic Poem

The rain descends; each drop some drooping flower,
Or parched blade drinks in with grateful haste;
Nor is there, from the plenteous falling shower,
A drop that nature will permit to waste.
Upon the river falls the pattering rain
In countless drops, that soon are seen no more;
The river swells, and overflows the plain,
And richer harvests wave than e'er before.
Nor think, that on the surface of the rock
The rain drop falls in vain, a useless thing;
From out the crevice of the granite block
The savin grows, and lichens to it cling;
And there, when all around is parched and dry,
The thirsty birds will come and find a full supply.