The gentle rain, as gentle notes, inscribe:
A mourning song for images withdrawn;
A pleasing elegy to moments gone;
Or passing fancies, never real. Describe
The rain, and gentle airs will drift to mind:
The dreaming sounds of feeling; river songs,
A never ending symphony, in throngs
Of sound, imbibing, then, of rivers winding
Endlessly about the morning light;
Entwining dewy havens of the heart;
And mountains of a mighty spirit’s height,
Transfixing grateful captives of its art.
How beautiful the rain and music are,
That take us into paradise so far.
- To my friend Jena:
So that you may remember
How I love the rain.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: