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Weather Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Weather Song by Mary Bridges Canedy Slade
  2. Weather Wisdom by Anonymous
  3. To the Weathercock on Our Steeple by Albert G. Greene
  4. An April Jest by Ruby Archer

  1. Weather Song

    by Mary Bridges Canedy Slade

    This is the way the cloud comes down,
    Darkly, darkly falling;
    So it covers the shining blue,
    Till no ray can glisten through.
    This is the way the cloud comes down,
    Darkly, darkly falling.

    This is the way the rain comes down,
    Swiftly, swiftly falling.
    So He sendeth the welcome rain
    Over field and hill and plain.
    This is the way the rain comes down,
    Swiftly, swiftly falling.

    This is the way the snow comes down,
    Softly, softly falling.
    So He giveth the snow-like wool,
    Fair and white and beautiful.
    This is the way the snow comes down,
    Softly, softly falling.

    This is the way the frost comes down,
    Widely, widely falling.
    So it spreadeth, all through the night,
    Shining cold and pure and white.
    This is the way the frost comes down,
    Widely, widely falling.

    This is way the hail comes down,
    Loudly, loudly falling,
    So it flieth beneath the cloud,
    Swift and strong and wild and loud.
    This is the way the hail comes down,
    Loudly, loudly falling.

    This is the way sunshine comes down,
    Sweetly, sweetly falling,
    So it chaseth the cloud away,
    So it waketh the lovely day.
    This is the way sunshine comes down,
    Sweetly, sweetly falling.

    This is the way rainbow comes down,
    Brightly, brightly falling,
    So it shineth across the sky,
    Making fair the heavens on high.
    This is the way rainbow comes down,
    Brightly, brightly falling.

    This is the way the leaves come down,
    Gently, gently falling,
    In gold and brown and crimson drest,
    Rocked by the wind, they lie and rest.
    This is the way the leaves come down,
    Gently, gently falling.

    Wonderful, Lord, are all thy works,
    Wheresoever falling,
    All their various voices raise,
    Speaking forth their Maker's praise.
    Wonderful, Lord, are all Thy work,
    Wheresoever falling.

  2. Weather Wisdom

    by Anonymous

    A sunshiny shower
    Won't last half an hour.

    Rain before seven,
    Fair by eleven.

    The South wind brings wet weather,
    The North wind wet and cold together;
    The West wind always brings us rain,
    The East wind blows it back again.

    March winds and April showers
    Bring forth May flowers.

    Evening red and morning gray
    Set the traveller on his way,
    But evening gray and morning red,
    Bring the rain upon his head.

    Rainbow at night
    Is the sailor's delight;
    Rainbow at morning,
    Sailors, take warning.

  3. To the Weathercock on Our Steeple

    by Albert G. Greene

    The dawn has broke, the morn is up,
    Another day begun;
    And there thy poised and gilded spear
    Is flashing in the sun,
    Upon that steep and lofty tower
    Where thou thy watch hast kept,
    A true and faithful sentinel,
    While all around thee slept.

    For years, upon thee, there has poured
    The summer’s noonday heat,
    And through the long, dark, starless night
    The winter storms have beat;
    But yet thy duty has been done,
    By day and night the same,
    Still thou hast met and faced the storm,
    Whichever way it came.

    No chilling blast in wrath has swept
    Along the distant heaven,
    But thou hast watched its onward course,
    And distant warning given;
    And, when midsummer’s sultry beams
    Oppress all living things,
    Thou dost foretell each breeze that comes
    With health upon its wings.

    How oft I ’ve seen, at early dawn,
    Or twilight’s quiet hour,
    The swallows, in their joyous glee,
    Come darting round their tower,
    As if, with thee, to hail the sun
    And catch his earliest light,
    And offer ye the morn’s salute,
    Or bid ye both good night.

    And when, around thee or above,
    No breath of air has stirred,
    Thou seem’st to watch the circling flight
    Of each free, happy bird,
    Till, after twittering round thy head
    In many a mazy track,
    The whole delighted company
    Have settled on thy back.

    Then, if, perchance, amidst their mirth,
    A gentle breeze has sprung,
    And, prompt to mark its first approach,
    Thy eager form hath swung,
    I ’ve thought I almost heard thee say,
    As far aloft they flew,—
    “Now all away! here ends our play,
    For I have work to do!”

    Men slander thee, my honest friend,
    And call thee, in their pride,
    An emblem of their fickleness,
    Thou ever-faithful guide.
    Each weak, unstable human mind
    A “weathercock” they call;
    And thus, unthinkingly, mankind
    Abuse thee, one and all.

    They have no right to make thy name
    A byword for their deeds:
    They change their friends, their principles,
    Their fashions, and their creeds;
    Whilst thou hast ne’er, like them, been known
    Thus causelessly to range;
    But when thou changest sides, canst give
    Good reason for the change.

    Thou, like some lofty soul, whose course
    The thoughtless oft condemn,
    Art touched by many airs from heaven
    Which never breathe on them,—
    And moved by many impulses
    Which they do never know,
    Who, round their earth-bound circles, plod
    The dusty paths below.

    Through one more dark and cheerless night
    Thou well hast kept thy trust,
    And now in glory o’er thy head
    The morning light has burst.
    And unto earth’s true watcher, thus,
    When his dark hours have passed,
    Will come “the day-spring from on high,”
    To cheer his path at last.

    Bright symbol of fidelity,
    Still may I think of thee;
    And may the lesson thou dost teach
    Be never lost on me;
    But still, in sunshine or in storm,
    Whatever task is mine,
    May I be faithful to my trust,
    As thou hast been to thine.

  4. An April Jest

    by Ruby Archer

    On a rough March day with a sky half gray,
    The wind with the sunshine plead:
    "Come with me and creep where the blossoms sleep,
    And waken them all," he said.

    And the sun laughed, "Yea." So they sped away,
    All the night-capped flowers to find;
    And they touched the heads in the deep soft beds
    With a delicate leaf-mould lined,

    'Till the flow'rets dreamed that a rainbow gleamed,
    And a murmuring zephyr sang;
    And their night-caps soft in a trice they doffed,
    And lo—from their beds up sprang.

    As each wee sprout flung its fingers out
    And soft pushed the earth away,
    Wily wind and sun in their impish fun
    Made the March world laugh like May.

    When the flower heads fair felt the silk-soft air,
    They nodded in artless glee;
    And each conceived as it happily leaved,
    It was strong as a plant need be.

    Nor with wind and sun were the favors done.
    They cradled and kissed the flowers,
    While March crept past, in caprice at last,
    With crotchets and petulant showers.

    When March had departed, the wind icy-hearted
    Blew fiercely the poor plants around;
    'Till frightened they quivered, and fearfully shivered,
    And laid their sweet heads on the ground.

    The sunshine grew naughty, and feigned to be haughty
    By hooding himself with a cloud:
    The darkness came quickly, the clouds gathered thickly,
    And every bright leaflet was cowed.

    Then a white despair clutched the gasping air,
    And the plants lay prone in their woe;
    For the awful white meant the fatal blight
    In the touch of the pitiless snow.

    Then the sunshine peered from his hood and jeered,
    "'Twas a jest! Silly plants! April fool!"
    And the wind shrieked past in a cutting blast,
    "April fool! April fool! April fool!"