Above the Clouds

I, too, with the baby lark, know the joy when he sang, "The sun has come out after the rain."

Through a very stormy month, when morning after morning nothing but gloomy clouds and rain greeted our sight, making it almost seem that the sun had gone forever or that we had forgotten its warmth and light, patiently and sometimes impatiently we waited, knowing with scientific certainty that it was there behind the grayness and dampness,—unchanging, still the same.

At last late one afternoon the sun burst out between dark clouds while the air was yet moist with tear drops, and across the eastern sky, from mountain to mountain, glowed the rainbow, that "bright bow of promise."

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