How a gentle rain, a soft rain shall drift
Upon my lonely night, and bring me rest
Like story-book music, beauty at its best,
It singeth songs so lovely and it lifts
My heart as I rejoice its subtle gifts.
Such wistful dreams of peace made manifest,
I lay my grateful head upon thy breast;
And sleep, at last, while on thy love, I drift.
I love thee as I love the touching rain
Which maketh us this soft, prismatic night;
I love thine happiness, I love thy pain
That I may ease with rain—and quiet light;
I love thee dearly as I would restrain
My tears which fall like gentle rain tonight.