I have always hated the rain, And the gloom of grayed skies. But now I think I must always cherish Rain-hung leaf and the misty river; And the friendly screen of dripping green Where eager kisses were shyly given And your pipe-smoke made clouds in our damp, close heaven. The curious laggard passed us by, His wet shoes soughed on the shining walk. And that afternoon was filled with a blurred glory- That afternoon, when we first talked as lovers. It is easy to mould the yielding clay. And many shapes grow into beauty Under the facile hand. But forms of clay are lightly broken; They will lie shattered and forgotten in a dingy corner. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLIZZARD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SONG OF THE PILGRIMS by RUPERT BROOKE MY LAST DUCHESS; FERRRA by ROBERT BROWNING GREEN RIVER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17. A LOVER'S PLEA by THOMAS CAMPION THE HERONS OF ELMWOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: PICTURE-WRITING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE |