A reflection on Henry Wadsworth's poem, "Rain in Summer"
Rain in Summer is a short poem about all the joy and comforts the rain brings. It begins by simply stating how beautiful the rain really is; everything seems to become more alive and vibrant in nature. It can make something as ugly as dull and dirty streets seem to glisten with beauty. The way the rain flows reminds the author of animals scurrying freely. It clatters on rooftops and gushes in drainpipes trying desperately to push through.
The pouring rain flows as swift and mighty as a raging river, but is always welcome. It has a mysterious power to soothe even the sickliest souls as it twists and turns. It brings certain calmness and people are grateful.
Children run outside almost as if to greet the incoming rain. And no matter how high the waters get, it's never high enough to spoil their fun. But nothing welcomes the rain more then the dry plains and hillsides. It brings refreshing moisture to quench the dry and longing roots.
The author mentions the thankfulness of the oxen as if they were being given a break from their tiresome labor. Just the smell of the rain only gives them joy and inspiration to toil on. The look in their eyes says thanks to God more effectively than any humanly spoken thank you.
And as the rain beats on the farmer's crops, to the point of bending, he takes a moment to soak it all in, and in that, he sees it as no great loss. The author then sticks himself in the poem saying that only someone as open-minded as a poet can see all the beauty the rain brings. It dances freely amongst the clouds and over the abounding fields.
Nevertheless, the farmer begins scattering his grain as if everything is just as it should be. For he and he alone knows of the rain and where it's been, how it travels everywhere from deep chasms to over gravesites. Eventually making its way back where it came from...Heaven. And once it's gone, its remnants can be seen along bridges, in brilliant colors.
The author concludes by comparing the river to time itself.
The pouring rain flows as swift and mighty as a raging river, but is always welcome. It has a mysterious power to soothe even the sickliest souls as it twists and turns. It brings certain calmness and people are grateful.
Children run outside almost as if to greet the incoming rain. And no matter how high the waters get, it's never high enough to spoil their fun. But nothing welcomes the rain more then the dry plains and hillsides. It brings refreshing moisture to quench the dry and longing roots.
The author mentions the thankfulness of the oxen as if they were being given a break from their tiresome labor. Just the smell of the rain only gives them joy and inspiration to toil on. The look in their eyes says thanks to God more effectively than any humanly spoken thank you.
And as the rain beats on the farmer's crops, to the point of bending, he takes a moment to soak it all in, and in that, he sees it as no great loss. The author then sticks himself in the poem saying that only someone as open-minded as a poet can see all the beauty the rain brings. It dances freely amongst the clouds and over the abounding fields.
Nevertheless, the farmer begins scattering his grain as if everything is just as it should be. For he and he alone knows of the rain and where it's been, how it travels everywhere from deep chasms to over gravesites. Eventually making its way back where it came from...Heaven. And once it's gone, its remnants can be seen along bridges, in brilliant colors.
The author concludes by comparing the river to time itself.