Classic Poem

I

W E'LL home and take shelter,
While romps o'er the plain
Like a herd helter-skelter
The rioting rain.
For the thunderclouds blacken,
To drench, as they pass,
The deer in the bracken,
The kine in the grass.

II

It is gone. Let us follow.
The heavens breathe free.
In hurst and in hollow
How glistens each tree!
And pure from the thunder
In sheen and in hue,
The world and its wonder
Are fashioned anew.