The charitable rain drifting over our valley
Inaudibly in sunlight every afternoon
Is our blessedness made visible. With quiet clemency
The rains of Manoa move away from the mountain,
Mild and fine, with a cool, milky shining
As of pearl, clouded and luminous as the moon.
Our hairs become hazed with individual glistening,
And even our lashes are made wet with the colors
Of the sky's double bow, high overarching.
Such corporeal luster comes upon our hours
That though we know that there are other islands
Somewhere in Paradise, we've chosen these shores
That seem created for us, so our hope corresponds
With the measure of our blessing. Thus contented, wishing
Only for what is ours, we live at peace within the bounds
Of this pacific valley, where the clement rains descend.