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James Whitcomb Riley - The Rainy Morning
Work rating: Low

The dawn of the day was dreary,
    And the lowering clouds o`erhead
Wept in a silent sorrow
    Where the sweet sunshine lay dead;
And a wind came out of the eastward
    Like an endless sigh of pain,
And the leaves fell down in the pathway
    And writhed in the falling rain.

I had tried in a brave endeavor
    To chord my harp with the sun,
But the strings would slacken ever,
    And the task was a weary one:
And so, like a child impatient
    And sick of a discontent,
I bowed in a shower of tear-drops
    And mourned with the instrument.

And lo! as I bowed, the splendor
    Of the sun bent over me,
With a touch as warm and tender
    As a father`s hand might be:
And, even as I felt its presence,
    My clouded soul grew bright,
And the tears, like the rain of morning,
    Melted in mists of light.
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