Before a Journey
Poem
Where are the wind and rain?
A continent and seas away.
Going there again?
Yes: I’m no longer at ease.
Rain visits untended graves;
wind stirs their wet grass.
The grain swirls into waves
as the clouds sail up and pass.
(Sunlight touched the church tower;
then the rack closed again.)
The wind mourns hour by hour;
hour after hour chants the rain.
Towards night the skyline clears;
I leave a shore for a shore.
The good rain sheds my tears
and the brisk winds bring more.
About the Author
Arthur Henry King
Arthur Henry King is a professor emeritus of English at Brigham Young University. He is currently serving as president of the London Temple.