Passion Flowers (Watson)/Earth and the Rain King
Earth and the Rain King.
In Time of Drouth.
Be pitiful, Sun, I languish and shrink from thy amorous gaze,
While weary and drooping I'm watching his pennons of slow circling haze;
For bliss of his presence I'm yearning; for balm of his touch I sigh.
Oh! Sun, know I hate thy caresses; for kiss of his lips I die.
I lift up my heart; is he coming? Say, cool, startled winds that creep out
From your haunts in the forests, oh! answer; oh! answer, faint zephyrs, my doubt;
And say, ye impalpable odors that steal to my hot, fevered brow,
Do ye waft me a thought from my Lover, or herald his quick coming now?
Hush! hush! he is coming, coming! be still, oh! my heart in thy place;
Keep silence, his tread wakes the heavens, his voice stirs the measureless space.
I know his step on the mountains, the torture of doubting is past,
The current, electric, resistless is athrill through my soul at last.
Oh! hilltops I feel that he's near me—oh! valleys arouse and rejoice;
Oh! streamlet, sing softly thy carol and harken the tones of his voice;
Oh! dumb, thirsting leaves, take comfort; and blossoms with mute, folded lips;
Panting meadows, look up to the heavens, where are sailing his purple cloud-ships.
While weary and drooping I'm watching his pennons of slow circling haze;
For bliss of his presence I'm yearning; for balm of his touch I sigh.
Oh! Sun, know I hate thy caresses; for kiss of his lips I die.
I lift up my heart; is he coming? Say, cool, startled winds that creep out
From your haunts in the forests, oh! answer; oh! answer, faint zephyrs, my doubt;
And say, ye impalpable odors that steal to my hot, fevered brow,
Do ye waft me a thought from my Lover, or herald his quick coming now?
Hush! hush! he is coming, coming! be still, oh! my heart in thy place;
Keep silence, his tread wakes the heavens, his voice stirs the measureless space.
I know his step on the mountains, the torture of doubting is past,
The current, electric, resistless is athrill through my soul at last.
Oh! hilltops I feel that he's near me—oh! valleys arouse and rejoice;
Oh! streamlet, sing softly thy carol and harken the tones of his voice;
Oh! dumb, thirsting leaves, take comfort; and blossoms with mute, folded lips;
Panting meadows, look up to the heavens, where are sailing his purple cloud-ships.
"I am coming, coming!" shouts grandly his trumpet athwart the black skies,
As flash of his swift lightning glances awaken half echoed replies.
He is coming! my king, now his love-call flies pulsing along the glad air;
Oh! Sun, I can laugh at thy wooing—to be wantonly glad I dare.
Oh! quivering leaflets and flowers; oh! broad, parching fields of grain;
Oh! Valley, oh! Streamlet, awaken, our Rain-King is with us again.
Down, down, pour his passionate kisses, he holds me enthralled in his power;
Expectancy yields to fruition—I could die in this ecstatic hour.
As flash of his swift lightning glances awaken half echoed replies.
He is coming! my king, now his love-call flies pulsing along the glad air;
Oh! Sun, I can laugh at thy wooing—to be wantonly glad I dare.
Oh! quivering leaflets and flowers; oh! broad, parching fields of grain;
Oh! Valley, oh! Streamlet, awaken, our Rain-King is with us again.
Down, down, pour his passionate kisses, he holds me enthralled in his power;
Expectancy yields to fruition—I could die in this ecstatic hour.