@3Wet! wet!@1 Hear Chaffinch! He cries and calls, Cries and calls from the snowy cherry-bough,— Chaffinch sighing and crying for water-falls, For the feel of the rain and her delicate freshness now. @3Wet! wet!@1 O Chaffinch, will you not tire? After the drought and dust the rain is sweet. The sap runs in the trees to the heart's desire, The grass hears, the little hearts are a-beat. White's the cherry orchard from head to foot. This is the golden moment of all the year. Over the song of the thrush and the blackbird's flute @3Wet! wet!@1 the Chaffinch calls to his dear. Down where the amber evening stretches for miles There's a golden-bosomed cloud on the sky serene. A little cloud afloat from the Golden Isles Grows and grows in the amber sea and the green. @3Wet! wet!@1 Hear Chaffinch! and Chaffinch knows. Chaffinch calls to his dear in the heavenly gloam. @3Wet! wet!@1 The rain as sweet as a rose Will drench the orchard to-night and the cherry-bloom. |