Charles Tennyson (1808–1879)

HUNG on the shower that fronts the golden west,

The rainbow bursts like magic on mine eyes,

In hues of elden promise there imprest,

Frail in its date, eternal in its guise.

The vision is so lovely that I feel

My heart endued with beauty like its own,

And taking an indissoluble seal

From what is here a moment, and is gone.

It lies so soft on the full-breasted storm,

New born o’ the middle air, and dewy-pure,

And tricked in nature’s choicest garniture;

What can be seen of lovelier dye or form?

While all the groves assume a ghastly stain,

Caught from the leaden rack and shining rain.