evergreen

I hear the rustle of the trees;

their leafy branches by the breeze

are blown about; they sway and swing,

as birds, with ruffled feathers, sing.

Behind the clouds, the sleepy sun

(too shy to show her face, like nun)

begins to gleam, to warm the world,

with love, as wind moves flag unfurled

upon the town hall’s trusty tower,

beside the clock that marks the hour

when rain, which lashed , so long, the ground

now ceases, leaving silver sound

of silence; wind, at last, has dropped;

the swaying branches all have stopped

and all seems still and so serene:

a silent sea of evergreen.