Listen how low the rain is singing there, More to itself than any other thing, For never leaf or blossom, now, will care What song of all her songs the rain will sing. For thus the summer world is sung asleep, Hearing the quiet rainfall on the ground, Fainter . . . and faint -- till slumbers grow too deep For listening any longer to this sound. Tomorrow I shall see, as I go by, How leaf and petal, delicately curled, Are drowned in sleep and lost to earth and sky, Where nothing is remembered from the world, But all things are forgotten that were plain -- Even this last-heard, drowsy sound of rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RETRIBUTION by FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY [1621] by MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON OF AN ORCHARD by KATHARINE TYNAN HAVE YOU PLANTED A TREE? by HENRY ABBEY FOR A ROYAL WEDDING, 29 JULY 1981 by JOHN BETJEMAN SONG by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE O, THE PLEASANT DAYS OF OLD! by FRANCES BROWNE TO MARY; FROM THE NOVEL OF MARY DE CLIFFORD by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |