At morn she stood to live for ear and sight,

Love sky or cloud, or rose or grasses drenched.

A lureful devil, that in glow-worm light

Set languor writhing all its folds, she quenched.

But she would muse when neighbours praised her face,

Her services, and staunchness to her mate:

Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain!

Thrice beauteous is our sunshine after rain!