The Rainy Day


Sullen clouds are gathering fast over the black fringe of the
Forest.
O child, do not go out!
The palm trees in a row by the lake are smiting their heads
Against the dismal sky; the crows with their dragged wings are
Silent on the tamarind branches, and the eastern bank of the river
Is haunted by a deepening gloom.
Our cow is lowing loud, ties at the fence.
O child, wait here till I bring her into the stall.
Men have crowded into the flooded field to catch the fishes
As they escape from the overflowing ponds; the rain-water is
Running in rills through the narrow lanes like a laughing boy who
Has run away from his mother to tease her.
Listen, someone is shouting for the boatman at the ford.
O child, the daylight is dim, and the crossing at the ferry
Is closed.
The sky seems to ride fast upon the madly rushing rain; the
Water in the river is loud and impatient; women have hastened home
Early from the Ganges with their filled pitchers.
The evening lamps must be made ready.
O child, do not go out!
The road to the market is desolate, the lane to the river is
Slippery. The wind is roaring and struggling among the bamboo
Branches like a wild beast tangled in a net.


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The Rainy Day