The rain made ruin of the rose and frayed <br />The lily into tatters: now the Morn <br />Looks from the hopeless East with eyes forlorn, <br />As from her attic looks a dull-eyed maid. <br />The coreopsis drips; the sunflowers fade; <br />The garden reeks with rain: beneath the thorn <br />The toadstools crowd their rims where, dim of horn, <br />The slow snail slimes the grasses gaunt and greyed. <br />Like some pale nun, in penitential weeds, <br />Weary with weeping, telling sad her beads, <br />Her rosary of pods of hollyhocks, <br />September comes, heavy of heart and head, <br />While in her path the draggled four-o'-clocks <br />Droop all their flowers, saying, 'Summer's dead.'<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-a-night-of-rain-2/
