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:     Ive 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.