May in the Garden

Nothing more beautiful than a blossom
after the rain . . .

A delicate fabric of bird song

Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
Is everywhere.
Oh I must pass nothing by
Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
The grass with my touch;
For how can I be sure I shall see again
The world on the first of May
Shining after the rain?
~ Sara Teasdale