The Rain.

A poem by James Whitcomb Riley

I.

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!



II.

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!



III.

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!

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