Winter Rain In California

SEE the little drops of rain, Falling, falling, Softly calling Flowers back to life again.

First the blades of grass appear, Upward creeping, Shyly peeping O’er the meadow far and near.

Then the mustard spreads its gold,-- Opes its flowers To the showers, Little heeding winter’s cold.

Poppies’ velvet petals glow; Each new-comer Thinks ’tis summer, Though the winter breezes blow.

And the little drops of rain, Softly falling Still are calling Flowers forth on hill and plain.