Poem by Francis Bret Harte

A Sanitary Message

Last night, above the whistling wind,
  I heard the welcome rain,--
A fusillade upon the roof,
  A tattoo on the pane:
The keyhole piped; the chimney-top
  A warlike trumpet blew;
Yet, mingling with these sounds of strife,
  A softer voice stole through.

”Give thanks, O brothers!” said the voice,
  ”That He who sent the rains
Hath spared your fields the scarlet dew
  That drips from patriot veins:
I’ve seen the grass on Eastern graves
  In brighter verdure rise;
But, oh! the rain that gave it life
  Sprang first from human eyes.

”I come to wash away no stain
  Upon your wasted lea;
I raise no banners, save the ones
  The forest waves to me:
Upon the mountain side, where Spring
  Her farthest picket sets,
My reveille awakes a host
  Of grassy bayonets.

”I visit every humble roof;
  I mingle with the low:
Only upon the highest peaks
  My blessings fall in snow;
Until, in tricklings of the stream
  And drainings of the lea,
My unspent bounty comes at last
  To mingle with the sea.”

And thus all night, above the wind,
  I heard the welcome rain,--
A fusillade upon the roof,
  A tattoo on the pane:
The keyhole piped; the chimney-top
  A warlike trumpet blew;
But, mingling with these sounds of strife,
  This hymn of peace stole through.

1. Half an Hour before Supper
2. Miss Blanche Says
3. Don Diego of the South
4. The Latest Chinese Outrage
5. Grandmother Tenterden

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