Classic Poem

The rain! The rain! The generous rain!
All things are his who knows to wait.
Behold the rainbow bends again
Above the storied, gloried Gate—
God's written covenant to men
In Tyrian tints on cloth of gold,
Such as no tongue or pen hath told!

Behold brown grasses where you pass—
A sleeping lion's tawny mane,
Brown-breasted Mother Earth in pain
Of travail—God's forgiving grass
Long three days dead to rise again
To lead us upward, on and on—
Each blade a shining saber drawn.

Behold His Covenenat is true!
Lo! California soon shall wear
About her ample breast each hue
That yonder hangs high-arched mid air!
Behold the very grasses knew!
Behold the Resurrection is!
Behold what witness like to this?