Mathilde Blind

A Highland Village

    Clear shining after the rain,
      The sun bursts the clouds asunder,
      And the hollow-rumbling thunder
    Groans like a loaded wain
      As, deep in the Grampians yonder,
    He grumbles now and again.

    Whenever the breezes shiver
    The leaves where the rain-drops quiver,
      Each bough and bush and brier
      Breaks into living fire,
    Till every tree is bright
    With blossom bursts of light.

    From golden roof and spout
      Brown waters gurgle and splutter,
      And rush down the flooded gutter
    Where the village children shout,
    As barefoot they splash in and out
      The water with tireless patter.

    The bald little Highland street
      Is all alive and a-glitter;
    The air blows keen and sweet
      From the field where the swallows twitter;
    Old wives on the doorsteps meet,
      At the corner the young maids titter.

    And the reapers hasten again,
    Ere quite the daylight wane
      To shake out the barley sheaves;
      While through the twinkling leaves
      The harvest moon upheaves
    Clear shining after the rain.