My Rain, why left me here, hast thou, alone
Without, luxuriant cool, thy tender kiss?
Of thee, I dream, confess of that I miss,
Deprived of thy caress. My Rain, mine own
Sweet Rain, hath left me only wind, and blown
Away. Thy lofty havens toss and list
Astray. Hast thou forgotten me in bliss?
And am I not thy dearest love alone?
Come back to me, my cool and softing Rain!
And cover up this never-ending blue!
Touch now my lips, my hair, and end this pain
Of missing you. I long to see thy true
Face shining through my lonely night again,
So prest against my yearning lips anew.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: