June <br /> <br />No hope, no change! The clouds have shut us in, <br /> And through the cloud the sullen Sun strikes down <br /> Full on the bosom of the tortured Town, <br />Till Night falls heavy as remembered sin <br />That will not suffer sleep or thought of ease, <br /> And, hour on hour, the dry-eyed Moon in spite <br /> Glares through the haze and mocks with watery light <br />The torment of the uncomplaining trees. <br />Far off, the Thunder bellows her despair <br />To echoing Earth, thrice parched. The lightnings fly <br />In vain. No help the heaped-up clouds afford, <br />But wearier weight of burdened, burning air. <br />What truce with Dawn? Look, from the aching sky, <br />Day stalks, a tyrant with a flaming sword! <br /> <br /> <br />September <br /> <br />At dawn there was a murmur in the trees, <br /> A ripple on the tank, and in the air <br /> Presage of coming coolness -- everywhere <br />A voice of prophecy upon the breeze. <br />Up leapt the Sun and smote the dust to gold, <br /> And strove to parch anew the heedless land, <br />All impotently, as a King grown old <br /> Wars for the Empire crumbling 'neath his hand. <br /> One after one the lotos-petals fell, <br /> Beneath the onslaught of the rebel year, <br /> In mutiny against a furious sky; <br /> And far-off Winter whispered: -- "It is well! <br /> "Hot Summer dies. Behold your help is near, <br /> "For when men's need is sorest, then come I."<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/two-months/
