RAIN UP THE MOUNTAIN.
Along the serried slopes a white shape creeps,
Through oak-fringed cañon ways, and up the steeps,
A mystery of silent, shrouding deeps;
Like spirit touching earth while Nature sleeps.
It stirs beneath the laurels, stirs within
The redwood’s circling shade, and light and thin,
Where the brown towhee builds, and spiders spin,
Shuts the twist manzanita’s tangle in.
With swaying tops and quivering leaves adart,
Held for a while within the mist’s white heart
Like shadowy travelers ready to depart—
Tall, wavering shapes of eucalyptus start.
From far below, where level spreads the plain;
Traveling with jeweled feet the hastening grain,
Touching the slumbering hills to life again,
Marching along the summits, comes the rain!