"It is wholly impossible to find a meaning in life. Reality is Will-blind, insatiable, unavoidable even after death." -- @3Schopenhauer.@1 THE sound of the rain is like the voice of a mystic touched with sadness; Or old women speaking softly, sobbing quietly over a young mother dead of child birth; Or a grey-bonneted quaker maiden, wistful as a May mist, lonely for a great lover. In the solemn stride of the rain, The dead walk. When the rain murmurs and sobs, The dead talk. -- The mystic, the women, the girl, the other dead. The rain is no falling cloud, no cloud burst merely, But a weak protest: The dead say life costs too high a price. . . Then the dead stand up and live again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: TALK by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET OMNIPRESENCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER THINGS ARE WHAT THEY SEEM by MARIANNE MOORE |