RAIN—and the lights of the city, Blurred by the mist on the pane. A thing without passion or pity— This is the rain. It beats on the roof with derision, It howls at the doors of the cab— Phantoms go by in a vision, Distorted and drab. Torpor and dreariness greet me; All of the things I abhor Rise to confront and defeat me, As I ride to your door... At last you have come; you have banished The gloom of each rain-haunted street— The tawdry surroundings have vanished; The evening is sweet. Now the whole city is dreamlike; The rain plays the lightest of tunes; The lamps through the mist make it seem like A city of moons. No longer my fancies run riot; I hold the most magic of charms— You smile at me, warm and unquiet, Here in my arms. I do not wonder or witness Whether it rains or is fair; I only can think of your sweetness, And the scent of your hair. I am deaf to the clatter and drumming, And life is a thing to ignore... Alas, my beloved, we are coming Once more to your door!... You have gone; it is listless and lonely; The evening is empty again; The world is a blank—there is only The desolate rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR LORD AND OUR LADY by HILAIRE BELLOC THE RHINOCEROS by HILAIRE BELLOC LEFT-HANDED POEM by JAMES GALVIN |