I have always hated the rain, And the gloom of grayed skies. But now I think I must always cherish Rain-hung leaf and the misty river; And the friendly screen of dripping green Where eager kisses were shyly given And your pipe-smoke made clouds in our damp, close heaven. The curious laggard passed us by, His wet shoes soughed on the shining walk. And that afternoon was filled with a blurred glory- That afternoon, when we first talked as lovers. It is easy to mould the yielding clay. And many shapes grow into beauty Under the facile hand. But forms of clay are lightly broken; They will lie shattered and forgotten in a dingy corner. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN A SPINSTER'S STINT by ALICE CARY CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SACRIFICE by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM by ROBERT SOUTHEY |