Winter Rain ~ Christina Rossetti

Every valley drinks,   
Every dell and hollow: 
Where the kind rain sinks and sinks,
Green of Spring will follow. 
Yet a lapse of weeks   
Buds will burst their edges, 
Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks,   
In the woods and hedges; 
Weave a bower of love   
For birds to meet each other, 
Weave a canopy above   
Nest and egg and mother. 
But for fattening rain   
We should have no flowers, 
Never a bud or leaf again   
But for soaking showers; 
Never a mated bird   
In the rocking tree-tops, 
Never indeed a flock or herd   
To graze upon the lea-crops. 
Lambs so woolly white,   
Sheep the sun-bright leas on, 
They could have no grass to bite   
But for rain in season. 
We should find no moss   
In the shadiest places, 
Find no waving meadow-grass   
Pied with broad-eyed daisies; 
But miles of barren sand,   
With never a son or daughter, 
Not a lily on the land,   
Or lily on the water.