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AFTER THE STORM.
All day from out the leaden sky
Has leaped and danced the rain;
All day in the fields have swayed and bowed
The stalks of the golden grain.

All day the timid, trembling doves
'Neath roofs have a shelter found;
All day the orchard trees have strewn
With their leaves and fruit the ground.

All day, on the foaming, crested waves,
Fierce winds have proud barks driven,
Now muttering deep of the last, last sleep,
Now murmuring soft of heaven.

But a rift in the clouds and the sun peeps through,
The upturned eye sees a patch of blue;
That voice which once could the tempest calm,
Now breathes on the air song, beauty, and balm.