Page:Renascenceotherp00milluoft.pdf/22

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And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatchèd roof,
And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath afriendly sound
To one who's six feet under grounds
And scarce the friendly voice or face:
A grave is such quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home
I would I were alive again
To kiss the fingers of the rain,

To drink into my eyes the shine

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