The rain! the rain! the rain!
It gushed from the skies and streamed
Like awful tears; and the sick man thought
How pitiful it seemed!
And he turned his face away,
And stared at the wall again,
His hopes nigh dead and his heart worn out.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!
The rain! the rain! the rain!
And the broad stream brimmed the shores;
And ever the river crept over the reeds
And the roots of the sycamores:
A corpse swirled by in a drift
Where the boat had snapt its chain —
And a hoarse-voiced mother shrieked and raved.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!
The rain! the rain! the rain!—
Pouring, with never a pause,
Over the fields and the green byways —
How beautiful it was!
And the new-made man and wife
Stood at the window-pane
Like two glad children kept from school.—
O the rain! the rain! the rain!