Uthi

Again from the east, the dark, dark clouds arise, And clad in black, the peak of Sarban lies.

The sun's bright face, beneath the cloud's dark hem, now hides, And on the steed of the cloud, a chilling wind now rides.

No roar of thunder sounds; this cloud is filled with peace, A strange and silent tavern, where all the clamors cease.

It brings the garden tidings of eternal grace, And comes to stitch bright pearls on the flower's robed face.

The flowers that slept from the sun's great heat, now wake, Those who lay in earth's lap, their slumber now they break.

By the wind's force it swelled, it advanced, it flew, Another mass arose—and Lo! the rain broke through.

A curious canopy for the mountain's saplings made, Here let the wanderers of the vale find rest and shade.