Come, Rain, Come

The wind, rising
Rain, ever near;
Hills, parched and waiting,
Silent in hopeful prayer.

Lakes once overflowing,
Rivers once sparkling blue,
Brooks once merry, full of laughter,
All now sunk to a muddied hue.

Misty clouds hang low
'Bove bush clad mountains,
Yet, below, dusty hilltops
Cry out for drenching fountains.

Let not the rivers run dry,
Change not their sparkles for shrouds!
Winter come quickly, release the land
From persistent sun and stubborn clouds.

Then come, rain, come
Burst from the sky
Fall down in rainbow sheets,
Silence the land's last cry.