The thunder groans and soon gives birth
To storm still-born, September’s worth —
To searing sight of flashing light
That tears apart the sky-soaked night:
Staccato sound of pelting rain
Throbs through my open window-pane.
Long have I lain in bed awake —
Such rain this thirst can never slake;
The awful truth, I am alone,
Hits home full-force: yes, you are gone.