I bring fresh showers for the thirsting|
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
From "The Cloud" by Percy Bysshe Shelley