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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


GOD'S WEATHER: JUNE by ELIZABETH SEWELL HILL

First Line: IN THE WEST PILE THE STORMCLOUDS, AND BLUEGRASS AND ROSES
Last Line: BEATEN PRONE IN THE WET FRAGRANT WEATHER, GOD'S WEATHER.
Subject(s): MONTHS; STORMS; WEATHER;

In the west pile the stormclouds, and bluegrass and roses
Bend low in the grey of the west wind while closes
Each loud-slamming shutter. By the hurrying flashes
The coops clatter down and the sheeted rain slashes
Ere the wind-tumbled flock finds the home-roost, while crying
Up the gale, go glad children on wild pinions flying.

The gulfed heavens darken and black thunder, sending
Its vivid light, shows where the cherry-trees, bending,
Snap under young fruit; bushes prostrated, pending
The onslaught of swift serried rainsheets, storm-driven;
While the outbuildings give in the wind.

Scotched and scriven
The etched lightning dies. Above garrulous gutter
The tall hill-crown's arched promise its radiant hope utters
While, purple the heart of the orchard still mutters.
The waters, clear, rippled, in the sunset light falling,
Spread out to the big ditch; from the ridgepole's perch calling,
The robin, the rainbow foretelling, forestalling.
The last gusts the grasses enfringe and enfeather,
Beaten prone in the wet fragrant weather, God's weather.



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