A SPRING STORM

　　I love May's first storms:

　　chuckling, sporting spring

　　grumbles in mock anger；

　　young thunder claps,

　　a spatter of rain and flying dust

　　and wet pearls hanging

　　threaded by sun-gold；

　　a speedy current scampers from the hills.

　　Such a commotion in the woods！

　　Noises cartwheel down the mountains.

　　Every sound is echoed round the sky.

　　You'd think capricious Hebe,

　　feeding the eagle of Zeus,

　　had raised a thunder-foaming goblet,

　　unable to restrain her mirth,

　　and tipped it on the earth.