When rain was streaming there were gleaming
seven flags against the blue.
In springtime skies, before my eyes,
    it seemed the world was made anew.
I thought somehow I'd glimpsed the brow
    of some beloved, lovely girl.
While raindrops pattered some were scattered
    on her cheeks, each one a pearl.
It might have been that I had seen
    a seven-coloured jet rise high
From plains below to set aglow
    the whole expanse of earth and sky.
Or I had seen, with vivid sheen,
    a peacock fly with sweeping tail
Across the sky, not knowing why
    its passing left a vivid trail.
Perhaps some dove, there high above,
    had caught men's hopes and sunrise gleams,
To show the good of brotherhood,
    the vital force of mankind's dreams.
But then I knew, against the blue
    of heavens' dome a choir sang.
The song was sung in every tongue,
    in multitudes of hearts it rang.

1966