When the radiant of grace appears above
The world rejoices and grasps its love

As the tiny arc proclaims the news
The warmth of its taste is hard to lose

You come again O the Month of change
Your shade is known and not too strange

And thy gift is vast in the ruin of crime
Nay, do shed thy love in the nick of time

The juicy prize has come with sore
Its thorn is hot without being in war

For the world is full and swamps in bug
But unto Him we turn to rain its drug

The peace is mute all around the globe
The world is jailed by the thin microbe

Our flaws are great on the clout of rain
And the phlegm of air it is sure to drain

O the wiper of vice, thou art come in piece
When the world is down, to lay and cease

Thou art known for thy aid to right the wrong
So help revert repose before it is long

We call for thy hand to shine the dark
And make the turn the peace to mark