The storm is over, the land hushes to rest: The tyrannous wind, its strength fordone, Is fallen back in the west. - Robert Bridges

I know
that if odour were visible as colour is, I'd see
the summer garden aureoled in rainbow clouds.

And now impatiently despairest, see
How nought is changed: Joy's wisdom is attired
Splended for others' eyes if not for thee:
Not love or beauty or youth from earth is fled:
If they delite thee not, 'tis thou art dead.

Scatter the clouds that hide
The face of heaven, and show
Where sweet peace doth abide,
Where Truth and Beauty grow.