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.
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