Cherry on, Lost John

The world is not so sideways in its luck as people say;
there still are futures of a healthful gain; 

rain still rains.

Lichens droop from spruces, wizard-gray,
there are yet handsome gambles in the living game;

rain still rains.

Below the dust crust, we strike water in the hushing cave;
crystals lengthen, treasuring the downward way;

rain still rains.

The world is not so startled in its lack as people say;
we find lively flowers in the long decay;

rain still rain still rains.