Happy Rain Poems | Poems About Rain And Love

A rainy day can be dreary or it can be a welcomed change in the weather. Poets can offer both perspectives. Below is a collection of happy rain poems from famous poets. You might also be interested in our collection of rain poems.

Find Your Favorite Poem

1. Tears In The Rain
2. There Will Come Soft Rain
3. When The Sun Come After Rain
4. Morning Rain by Du Fu
5. Like The Touch Of Rain
6. Before Summer Rain
7. Rain Has Fallen All The Day
8. The Rain by William Henry Davies
9. Rain by Jack Gilbert
10. Rain by Edward Thomas
11. You Come To Me Quiet As Rain Not Yet Fallen
12. The Summer Rain by Henry David Thoreau
13. A Flower In The Rain
14. Rain In Summer by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
15. The Rain And The Wind
16. A Cloud Of Rain
17. Still Falls The Rain
18. ‘Rain…Rain…Rain…!’
19. Souls And Rain-Drops
20. Beloved, Let Us Once More Praise The Rain
21. The Melancholy Year Is Dead With Rain
22. Rain by Hazem Al Jaber
23. Rain Falling by Patsy Jewell
24. Rain Along Shore
25. Waiting For Rain
26. Before The Rain
27. Rain Rain Rain
28. Rain On The Hill
29. Song Of The Rain
30. Bells In The Rain
31. A Poem Of Rain-Days And Rain-Nights
32. After The Rain
33. Our Little Kinsmen—after Rain
34. The Revenge Of Rain-In-The-Face
35. Rain, Rain, Rain, Rain by Juan Olivarez
36. Rain by Du Fu
37. I Saw You In The Rain
38. Rain by Judy Hill

Tears In The Rain
– Aislemyth

I look above
Hot tears kiss my face
The sky is crying
Stars are out of sight
I look at you
Hopelessness falling from your eyes
And pain of losing is tattoed on your soul
You seem so preoccupied,
Not noticing me
I close my eyes
You’ll never know what i feel
As we stand here crying
On a night of anguish and rain.

rain poems
 Best Rain Poems

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There Will Come Soft Rain
Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

happy rain poems
Happy Rain Poems

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When The Sun Come After Rain
Robert Louis Stevenson

WHEN the sun comes after rain
And the bird is in the blue,
The girls go down the lane
Two by two.

When the sun comes after shadow
And the singing of the showers,
The girls go up the meadow,
Fair as flowers.

When the eve comes dusky red
And the moon succeeds the sun,
The girls go home to bed
One by one.

And when life draws to its even
And the day of man is past,
They shall all go home to heaven,
Home at last.

when the sun come
Famous Rain Poems

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Morning Rain
Du Fu

A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened

Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain — and lingers on past noon.

morning rain
Morning Rain Poem

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Like The Touch Of Rain
Edward Thomas

Like the touch of rain she was
On a man’s flesh and hair and eyes
When the joy of walking thus
Has taken him by surprise:

With the love of the storm he burns,
He sings, he laughs, well I know how,
But forgets when he returns
As I shall not forget her ‘Go now’.

Those two words shut a door
Between me and the blessed rain
That was never shut before
And will not open again.

like the touch
Like The Touch of Rain

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Before Summer Rain
Rainer Maria Rilke

Suddenly, from all the green around you,
something-you don’t know what-has disappeared;
you feel it creeping closer to the window,
in total silence. From the nearby wood

you hear the urgent whistling of a plover,
reminding you of someone’s Saint Jerome:
so much solitude and passion come
from that one voice, whose fierce request the downpour

will grant. The walls, with their ancient portraits, glide
away from us, cautiously, as though
they weren’t supposed to hear what we are saying.

And reflected on the faded tapestries now;
the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long
childhood hours when you were so afraid.

funny rain poems
Funny Rain Poems

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Rain Has Fallen All The Day
James Joyce

Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories.

Staying a little by the way
Of memories shall we depart.
Come, my beloved, where I may
Speak to your heart.

fallen all the day
Rain has fallen all the day poem

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The Rain
William Henry Davies

I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
‘Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
‘Twill be a lovely sight.

drinking
Happy Rain Poetry

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Rain
Jack Gilbert

Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
In whatever room
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.

I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
Now
Suddenly
This rain.

autumn rain poems
Autumn Rain Poems

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Rain
Edward Thomas

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.

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You Come To Me Quiet As Rain Not Yet Fallen
Brian Patten

You come to me quiet as rain not yet fallen
Afraid of how you might fail yourself your
dress seven summers old is kept open
in memory of sex, smells warm, of boys,
and of the once long grass.
But we are colder now; we have not
Love’s first magic here. You come to me
Quiet as bulbs not yet broken
Out into sunlight.

The fear I see in your now lining face
Changes to puzzlement when my hands reach
For you as branches reach. Your dress
Does not fall easily, nor does your body
Sing of it won accord. What love added to
A common shape no longer seems a miracle.
You come to me with your age wrapped in excuses
And afraid of its silence.

Into the paradise our younger lives made of this bed and room
Has leaked the world and all its questioning
and now those shapes terrify us most
that remind us of our own. Easier now
to check longings and sentiment,
to pretend not to care overmuch,
you look out across the years, and you come to me
quiet as the last of our senses closing.

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The Summer Rain
Henry David Thoreau

My books I’d fain cast off, I cannot read,
‘Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare’s life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare’s books, unless his books were men.

Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,
What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,
If juster battles are enacted now
Between the ants upon this hummock’s crown?

Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host.

Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour,
For now I’ve business with this drop of dew,
And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower–
I’ll meet him shortly when the sky is blue.

This bed of herd’s grass and wild oats was spread
Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use.
A clover tuft is pillow for my head,
And violets quite overtop my shoes.

And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,
And gently swells the wind to say all’s well;
The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,
Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;
But see that globe come rolling down its stem,
Now like a lonely planet there it floats,
And now it sinks into my garment’s hem.

Drip drip the trees for all the country round,
And richness rare distills from every bough;
The wind alone it is makes every sound,
Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.

For shame the sun will never show himself,
Who could not with his beams e’er melt me so;
My dripping locks–they would become an elf,
Who in a beaded coat does gayly go.

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A Flower In The Rain
Robert Rorabeck

I want to fall on you like rain
upon a wildflower
Opening new reason from you
Scaring all the old bees away from
Pollinating your bed
Scaring all the fake men off who
Can only stand the sun
So it’s just me and you in the
Meadow
The rabbits in the hole
The grasses are wet and beginning to bow
The forest is damp and sleepy
And in the meadow
I bend down and kiss your petals wetly
Falling all over you
Letting your pistil slip into my mouth
Sucking off your honey,
Almost plucking you
But not going so far
Just pulling you so that you can feel
Your roots leaving
To let you almost taste
My world in the sky
So afterwards you can go down
Believing
The words on my lips
When I fall on my knees for you
A flower in the rain.

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Rain In Summer
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!

Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

The sick man from his chamber looks
At the twisted brooks;
He can feel the cool
Breath of each little pool;
His fevered brain
Grows calm again,
And he breathes a blessing on the rain.

From the neighboring school
Come the boys,
With more than their wonted noise
And commotion;
And down the wet streets
Sail their mimic fleets,
Till the treacherous pool
Ingulfs them in its whirling
And turbulent ocean.

In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard’s tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!

In the furrowed land
The toilsome and patient oxen stand;
Lifting the yoke encumbered head,
With their dilated nostrils spread,
They silently inhale
The clover-scented gale,
And the vapors that arise
From the well-watered and smoking soil.
For this rest in the furrow after toil
Their large and lustrous eyes
Seem to thank the Lord,
More than man’s spoken word.

Near at hand,
From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees
His pastures, and his fields of grain,
As they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain.
He counts it as no sin
That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain.

These, and far more than these,
The Poet sees!
He can behold
Aquarius old
Walking the fenceless fields of air;
And from each ample fold
Of the clouds about him rolled
Scattering everywhere
The showery rain,
As the farmer scatters his grain.

He can behold
Things manifold
That have not yet been wholly told,–
Have not been wholly sung nor said.
For his thought, that never stops,
Follows the water-drops
Down to the graves of the dead,
Down through chasms and gulfs profound,
To the dreary fountain-head
Of lakes and rivers under ground;
And sees them, when the rain is done,
On the bridge of colors seven
Climbing up once more to heaven,
Opposite the setting sun.

Thus the Seer,
With vision clear,
Sees forms appear and disappear,
In the perpetual round of strange,
Mysterious change
From birth to death, from death to birth,
From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth;
Till glimpses more sublime
Of things, unseen before,
Unto his wondering eyes reveal
The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel
Turning forevermore
In the rapid and rushing river of Time.

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The Rain And The Wind
William Ernest Henley

The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain —
They are with us like a disease:
They worry the heart, they work the brain,
As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane,
And savage the helpless trees.

What does it profit a man to know
These tattered and tumbling skies
A million stately stars will show,
And the ruining grace of the after-glow
And the rush of the wild sunrise?

Ever the rain — the rain and the wind!
Come, hunch with me over the fire,
Dream of the dreams that leered and grinned,
Ere the blood of the Year got chilled and thinned,
And the death came on desire!

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A Cloud Of Rain
Jasbir Chatterjee

A dark cloud of rain
drifted into my life
And for some time,
I felt good, happy…
I no longer felt lonely.

I thought life would go on happily
In one long, long stretch of time…
But when the cold, harsh
winds of change started blowing,
The cloud of rain
had to drift away…

Life is still going on
In one long, long stretch of time…
I am not lonely.
I can’t say I am sad or unhappy.
But you have left a void
That would take me
a long, long time to fill.

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Still Falls The Rain
Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell

Still falls the Rain…
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss…
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.

Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter’s Field, and the sound of the impious feet

On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain

In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain
Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there, have mercy on us—
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one.

Still falls the Rain—
Still falls the Blood from the Starved Man’s wounded Side:
He bears in His Heart all wounds,—those of the light that died,
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear—
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh… the tears of the hunted hare.

Still falls the Rain—
Then— O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune—
See, see where Christ’s blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree

Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the world,—dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar’s laurel crown.

Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man
Was once a child who among beasts has lain—
“Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood, for thee.”

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‘Rain…Rain…Rain…!’
indira babbellapati

Rain on tinned roof
Rain on concrete
Rain soaking into sands
Rain on soft earth
Rain on metal road
Rain on windscreen

Rain falling into the sea
Rain in the river

Rain on flowers
Rain on leaves
Rain under trees
Rain on hills

Rain on my skin…

Each with its own unique raga
Reverberates across the sky
On to the earth…

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Souls And Rain-Drops
Sidney Lanier

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
Then vanish, and die utterly.
One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.
One might not know that souls had place
Were’t not for the wrinkles in life’s face.

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Beloved, Let Us Once More Praise The Rain
Conrad Potter Aiken

Beloved, let us once more praise the rain.
Let us discover some new alphabet,
For this, the often praised; and be ourselves,
The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf,
The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone,
And all that welcomes the rain; the sparrow too,—
Who watches with a hard eye from seclusion,
Beneath the elm-tree bough, till rain is done.
There is an oriole who, upside down,
Hangs at his nest, and flicks an orange wing,—
Under a tree as dead and still as lead;
There is a single leaf, in all this heaven
Of leaves, which rain has loosened from its twig:
The stem breaks, and it falls, but it is caught
Upon a sister leaf, and thus she hangs;
There is an acorn cup, beside a mushroom
Which catches three drops from the stooping cloud.
The timid bee goes back to the hive; the fly
Under the broad leaf of the hollyhock
Perpends stupid with cold; the raindark snail
Surveys the wet world from a watery stone…
And still the syllables of water whisper:
The wheel of cloud whirs slowly: while we wait
In the dark room; and in your heart I find
One silver raindrop,—on a hawthorn leaf,—
Orion in a cobweb, and the World.

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The Melancholy Year Is Dead With Rain
Trumbull Stickney

The melancholy year is dead with rain.
Drop after drop on every branch pursues.
From far away beyond the drizzled flues
A twilight saddens to the window pane.
And dimly thro’ the chambers of the brain,
From place to place and gently touching, moves
My one and irrecoverable love’s
Dear and lost shape one other time again.
So in the last of autumn for a day
Summer or summer’s memory returns.
So in a mountain desolation burns
Some rich belated flower, and with the gray
Sick weather, in the world of rotting ferns
From out the dreadful stones it dies away.

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Rain
Hazem Al Jaber

Rain…Rain…
how sweet and lovely is a water from sky..
Rain..Rain..
it`s a wine of lovers…
Rain.. Rain..
it`s a lovers` pain…
Rain..Rain..
my misses and longing to you as a desret…
Rain..Rain..
aren`t you coming back again to me, , as a rain..
come back to me as a coming rain..
come to wash my soul with a waters` sky..
with your hands…
hug me to you…
my heart become sick from a sadness and pains..
Rain..Rain..
it been so long for waiting..
untill, i become addicted to your waiting and a patience..
Rain..Rain..
aren`t you coming back..
a rain already here..
please don`t let me alone with a rain…

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Rain Falling
Patsy Jewell

Well, I’m listening to the pitter-patter of the rain
Alone in the middle of the night
My ol’heart begins to feel the pain
Of missing you with all my might
But your not here to share my love
So I’ll just face this pain alone…
And listen to the rain falling from above
And face the fact that you are gone
Rain falling from above…
Rain falling for my love…
Rain falling from the skies…
And rain falling from my eyes.
So I’m listening to the pitter-patter of the rain
And listening to how sad it sounds
The rain’s only an indication of my pain
And eternal loneliness I’ve found.

*********************

Rain Along Shore
Lucy Maud Montgomery

Wan white mists upon the sea,
East wind harping mournfully
All the sunken reefs along,
Wail and heart-break in its song,
But adown the placid bay
Fisher-folk keep holiday.

All the deeps beyond the bar
Call and murmur from afar,
‘Plaining of a mighty woe
Where the great ships come and go,
But adown the harbor gray
Fisher-folk keep holiday.

When the cloudy heavens frown,
And the sweeping rain comes down,
Boats at anchorage must bide
In despite of time or tide;
Making merry as they may
Fisher-folk keep holiday.

Now is time for jest and song
All the idle shore along,
Now is time for wooing dear,
Maidens cannot choose but hear;
Daffing toil and care away
Fisher-folk keep holiday.

Oh, the fretted reefs may wail,
Every man has furled his sail!
Oh, the wind may moan in fear,
Every lad is with his dear!
Mirth and laughter have their way,
Fisher-folk keep holiday.

*********************

Waiting For Rain
Candice Renae Williams

I love the rain,
The way it gracefully falls from the leaves,
To plop soundlessly on an unforgiving ground,
Soaking up the rain until it fades away.
How many times does it rain?
Are their many who know how I feel when it rains?
The rain takes the problems of today,
Which usually fills my day with an empty sorrow,
The pain and desolute despair wash away,
With the following of the rain.
Evanescently,
The rain will dry up,
As the sun’s rays pierce the sky.
They go into the air,
To come again another day.
Life returns to normal once more,
Continual breath with the force of change.
The rain washes away,
Sorrow, pain, and for a moment
It gives you the belief of innocence again.
So, here I am,
Underneath the pale,
Dropping leaves of an ancient willow tree.
Hoping anxiously for my rain to come.
Outside with the birds singing
The sun shining
The wind blowing
And the leaves rustling,
Time keeps going on,
As I await my rain to come.

*********************

Before The Rain
Thomas Bailey Aldrich

E knew it would rain, for all the morn
A spirit on slender ropes of mist
Was lowering its golden buckets down
Into the vapory amethyst.
Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens–
Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers,
Dipping the jewels out of the sea,
To sprinkle them over the land in showers.
We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed
The white of their leaves, the amber grain
Shrunk in the wind–and the lightning now
Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain!

*********************

Rain Rain Rain
Vikram Pratap Singh

Rain, Rain, Rain, come again and again,
In the winter, in the summer and in spring,
Come with joy, fall with happiness and go with sorrow,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Rain, Rain, Rain come to relive earth’s pain,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make nature happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make livings happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Rain, Rain, Rain don’t go away,
Rain, Rain, Rain i hope you will stay,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

*********************

Rain On The Hill
Lucy Maud Montgomery

Now on the hill
The fitful wind is so still
That never a wimpling mist uplifts,
Nor a trembling leaf drop-laden stirs;
From the ancient firs
Aroma of balsam drifts,
And the silent places are filled
With elusive odors distilled
By the rain from asters empearled and frilled,
And a wild wet savor that dwells
Far adown in tawny fallows and bracken dells.

Then with a rush,
Breaking the beautiful hush
Where the only sound was the lisping, low
Converse of raindrops, or the dear sound
Close to the ground,
That grasses make when they grow,
Comes the wind in a gay,
Rollicking, turbulent way,
To winnow each bough and toss each spray,
Piping and whistling in glee
With the vibrant notes of a merry minstrelsy.

The friendly rain
Sings many a haunting strain,
Now of gladness and now of dole,
Anon of the glamor and the dream
That ever seem
To wait on a pilgrim soul;
Yea, we can hear
The grief of an elder year,
And laughter half-forgotten and dear;
In the wind and the rain we find
Fellowship meet for each change of mood or mind.

*********************

Song Of The Rain
Hugh McCrae

Night,
and the yellow pleasure of candle-light….
old brown books and the kind, fine face of the clock
fogged in the veils of the fire – it’s cuddling tock.

The cat,
greening her eyes on the flame-litten mat;
wickedly, wakeful she yawns at the rain
bending the roses over the pane,
and a bird in my heart begins to sing
over and over the same sweet thing–

Safe in the house with my boyhood’s love
and our children asleep in the attic above.

*********************

Bells In The Rain
Elinor Morton Wylie

Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,
Upon the steep cliffs of the town.
Sleep falls; men are at peace again
While the small drops fall softly down.

The bright drops ring like bells of glass
Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown;
Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass
So softly as it falls on stone.

Peace falls unheeded on the dead
Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink;
Upon a live man’s bloody head
It falls most tenderly, I think.

*********************

A Poem Of Rain-Days And Rain-Nights
Indira babbellapati

Rain-days are funny
Funnier, rain-nights
The sky assumes
All grey, black and purple
Streaks of lightning
Brighten the sky’s
Dark chambers…

As it rains outside
As rain alone pleases,
An hitherto unknown warmth
Spreads through my body.
I rush outside to cool myself
And lo, rain stops
As rain alone can, abruptly,
Callous to the burning insides
To settle for themselves

Rain-days are temperamental
Rain-nights, lonely and desolate…

*********************

After The Rain
Thomas Bailey Aldrich

THE rain has ceased, and in my room
The sunshine pours an airy flood;
And on the church’s dizzy vane
The ancient cross is bathed in blood.
From out the dripping ivy leaves,
Antiquely carven, gray and high,
A dormer, facing westward, looks
Upon the village like an eye.
And now it glimmers in the sun,
A globe of gold, a disk, a speck;
And in the belfry sits a dove
With purple ripples on her neck.

*********************

Our Little Kinsmen—after Rain
Emily Dickinson

Our little Kinsmen—after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.

A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.

As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.

*********************

The Revenge Of Rain-In-The-Face
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In that desolate land and lone,
Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone
Roar down their mountain path,
By their fires the Sioux Chiefs
Muttered their woes and griefs
And the menace of their wrath.

“Revenge!” cried Rain-in-the-Face,
“Revenue upon all the race
Of the White Chief with yellow hair!”
And the mountains dark and high
From their crags re-echoed the cry
Of his anger and despair.

In the meadow, spreading wide
By woodland and riverside
The Indian village stood;
All was silent as a dream,
Save the rushing a of the stream
And the blue-jay in the wood.

In his war paint and his beads,
Like a bison among the reeds,
In ambush the Sitting Bull
Lay with three thousand braves
Crouched in the clefts and caves,
Savage, unmerciful!

Into the fatal snare
The White Chief with yellow hair
And his three hundred men
Dashed headlong, sword in hand;
But of that gallant band
Not one returned again.

The sudden darkness of death
Overwhelmed them like the breath
And smoke of a furnace fire:
By the river’s bank, and between
The rocks of the ravine,
They lay in their bloody attire.

But the foemen fled in the night,
And Rain-in-the-Face, in his flight
Uplifted high in air
As a ghastly trophy, bore
The brave heart, that beat no more,
Of the White Chief with yellow hair.

Whose was the right and the wrong?
Sing it, O funeral song,
With a voice that is full of tears,
And say that our broken faith
Wrought all this ruin and scathe,
In the Year of a Hundred Years.

*********************

Rain, Rain, Rain, Rain
Juan Olivarez

At first I couldn’t get enough,
Now I just can’t make it stop.
No rain in the desert that was rough,
Around here there’s no dry spot.

It’s been raining everyday,
Since I came back to my home.
The sunshine just can’t seem to stay,
Hurricanes and storms, won’t leave us alone.

I like the rain like everyone,
But it’s been over done a bit.
We’ll need a boat before we’re done,
I’m about to throw a fit.

There’s a fish just swimming by,
Waving his soggy fin at me.
All I could muster was a ‘hi’,
From my perch up in the tree.

*********************

Rain
Du Fu

Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond — white birds blaze in flight.

Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar,
Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below
Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village
Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant.

*********************

I Saw You In The Rain
Mary Nagy

Sitting for what seems hours
listening to the rain
I find myself hypnotized
by the puddle
forming at the bottom
of the downspout.

The air is cold
yet I don’t notice until
goosebumps cover
my arms.
Funny thing is,
I still feel warm.

I was noticing how
the rain poured out
of the spout so fast
yet as soon as it was free
it rested
in that puddle
content just to be free.

Is that how you feel?
Like that rain?
Struggling with such force
for your freedom?

Once you’ve reached
your “”puddle””
will you relax
and stop struggling?
Is that all you’re looking for?
A little space away
from that confining spout?

The puddle looks so calm
just shining with the days reflections
mirroring my thoughts.
If I look away will that puddle
still be there tomorrow?
I don’t like taking risks…
so I keep staring
hypnotized by the cool
air and the tiny bubbles
fighting their way to the surface.

*********************


Rain

Judy Hill

Sitting in the rain as it falls on my face,
Thinking about making love is a wondrous place.

As the rain falls down my chest,
To the place that you know best.

As the rain gets harder your strokes get
stronger,
Going deeper and deeper making the process longer.

Running your fingers through
my wet hair,
Sucking my breast as you
take me there.

As my moans get louder the
rain drowns me out,
It feels so good showing me
what your man hoods about.

As the rain keep coming so do
I,
Hitting it right as you give me
that natural high.

As the ran role down my check
so do a tear,
As you sexually take away my
fears.

As your lips touch mine so do
the rain,
Holding me tight giving me that
passionate pain.

As the rain slows down I
don’t want it to stop,
The rain is cool, but my
body is hot.

As the rain stop and the love
making finally ends,
I hope tomorrows forecast
say rain so we can do this again.

*********************

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