SULLEN clouds are fast over the black fringe of the forest.  
O child, do not go out!
 
The palm trees in a row by the lake are their heads against the sky; the crows with their draggled wings are silent on the tamarind branches, and the eastern bank of the river is haunted by a deepening gloom.
 
Our cow is lowing loud, tied at the fence.
 
O child, wait here till I bring her into the stall.
 
Men have crowded into the flooded field to catch the fishes as they escape from the ponds; the rain water is running in rills through the narrow lanes like a laughing boy who has run away fr............