RAIN.
HE night is chill and dreary,The rain drips down the pane,
The ivy startles and shivers
With weight of the sullen rain.
Better a fitful tempest,
Than this cold sobbing rain,
For all the world seems eerie—
Will the sun ne'er shine again?
Than this cold sobbing rain,
For all the world seems eerie—
Will the sun ne'er shine again?
Hark! what a gust sweeps by;
O moaning pitiless wind!
Frenzied passionate ravings,
So like grief of the mind.
O moaning pitiless wind!
Frenzied passionate ravings,
So like grief of the mind.
But is there no storm, no tempest
Abroad on the land to-night?
Alas! poor heart look up! the stars
Are shining above thee bright.
Abroad on the land to-night?
Alas! poor heart look up! the stars
Are shining above thee bright.
