SPRING RAIN IN LONDON
Reading edition
Hardly awake, I saw in the street The shining raindrops pelt; And lulled by their quick monotonous beat I let my languid eyes half close. I felt The tinkle of a rivulet Bubbling lazily down a hill, Where the turf was a couch for dark violet And flame-eyed tormentil. I saw the sun leaping through a cloud— Apollo shooting at the bladed corn— And the lark, a dizzy fanatic, hailing loud The golden god reborn.