Out of the barrenness of earth,
And the meager rain—
Mile upon mile of exultant
Fields of grain.
Out of the dimness of morning—
Sudden and stark,
A hot sun dispelling
The hushed dark.
Out of the bleakness of living,
Out of the unforgivable wrongs,
Out of the thin, dun soil of my soul—
Only the rhythm of the rain
Can ease my sorrow, end my pain.
He was a wilful lad,
Laughter the burden he had;
Songs unsung haunted his mouth,
Velvet as soft airs from the languid south;
He was sprung from the dawn,
Flame-crested. He is gone!
Only the lashing, silver whips
Of the rain can still my lips…
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on November 21, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.