Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

"It flashes, it crashes, it rumbles, it roars,

It mumbles and grumbles, it splatters, it pours;

The rain comes a-sweeping, the wind at its tail –

It's seeking the corners to muffle its wail.

It pitters, it patters, it dabbles, it drops,

It tinkles and sprinkles, and finally stops;

The rain is now over, the shower is gone...

Like ripples on streamlets, our praises flow on."

I found this little rhyme among my clippings but I don't know who wrote these descriptive words about rain. Some of the precipitation last week came in the form of cloud bursts, creating little rivers, leaving little gullies...