by John Banister Tabb
Dance to the beat of the rain, little Fern,
And spread out your palms again,
Tho' the sun
Hath my vesture spun,
He had labored, alas, in vain,
But for the shade
That the Cloud hath made,
And the gift of the Dew and the Rain.
Then laugh and upturn
All your fronds, little Fern,
And rejoice in the beat of the rain!
John Lane, LondonCopeland and Day, Boston