Rain, rain, rain. I find its endless plash delightful. Now it rushes with a spiteful Jar against the window pane. Now it has a soft, low fall, Like the tap of old desire. And I sit beside my fire, Vacant, with no thought at all, Eased of passion, eased of pain, Eased almost of long ambition, Melted by the slow attrition Of the rain, rain, rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREDERICKSBURG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO JOHN KEATS; SONNET by AMY LOWELL TO S.M., A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING HIS WORKS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY OMNES EODEM COGIMUR by AMMIANUS COLORED HEROES, HARK THE BUGLE; POLITICAL by ROBERT CHARLES O'HARA BENJAMIN FAR EAST by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 4. TERTIUM QUID by ROBERT BROWNING |