There are many occupations Which may fascinate and charm By their pleasing operations And their teasing spice of harm; There is sitting in a street car With a lady in the aisle, When you hide behind your paper With a guileful, guilty smile. But this truth is very plain To my mildly maddened brain, There is nothing to compare, Any time or anywhere, To walking home with Daisy in the rain. When the scintillating shower Drizzles in the dingy street, There 's a certain subtle power In pedestrians you meet. There 's a tantalizing promise In each lowly lifted dress That is apt to keep you dodging Like a shadow, I confess. But how easy to restrain All the ardor that you feign For the stranger, when you find That your journey is confined To walking home with Daisy in the rain. While from street to street you wander, With her little dimpled hand Resting on your arm, you ponder If she 'll ever understand Why you like a small umbrella Hardly large enough for two, And you make the journey longer Than you really ought to do. And you hardly can refrain From attempting to explain What the trouble is about; But you always, always doubt When walking home with Daisy in the rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HILL ABOVE THE MINE by MALCOLM COWLEY FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |