The Voice of the Rain

…from the quills of the dead white poets

Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)

And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,

Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:

I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,

Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and bottomless sea,

Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d, altogether changed, yet same,

I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,

And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent and unborn;

And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,

and make pure and beautify it;

(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment, wandering,

Reck’d or unreck’d, duly with love returns.)

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.
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