In the spring rain, The pond and the river Have become one.
My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Tears fall in my heart As tears fall on the town.
After the rain cometh the fair weather.
How it pours, pours, pours, In a never-ending sheet! How it drives beneath the doors! How it soaks the passer's feet! How it rattles on the shutter! How it rumples up the lawn! How 'twill sigh, and moan, and mutter, From darkness until dawn.
Any party which takes credit for the rain must not be surprised if its opponents blame it for the drought.
But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
After a day of rain the sun came out suddenly at five o'clock and threw a golden bar into the deep Victorian gloom of the front parlour
The rain is playing its soft pleasant tune fitfully on the skylight, and the shade of the fast-flying clouds across my book passed with delicate change.
All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers; hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.
Hard rain falls in every season. Sometimes it can beat you down; you have to try to learn how to take sustenance from it to grow.
Now there's three things you can do in a baseball game: You can win or you can lose or it can rain.
I believe in running through the rain and crashing into the person you love and having your lips bleed on each other.
The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected; I have always considered the rain to be healing—a blanket—the comfort of a friend. Without at least some rain in any given day, or at least a cloud or two on the horizon, I feel overwhelmed by the information of sunlight and yearn for the vital, muffling gift of falling water.
I am convinced that a light supper, a good night's sleep, and a fine morning, have sometimes made a hero of the same man, who, by an indigestion, a restless night, and rainy morning, would have proved a coward.
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way.
Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.
We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind,-and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain.
My personal motto has always been: Joy in spite of everything. Not just [mindless] joy, but joy in spite of everything. Recognizing the inequities and the suffering and the corruption and all that but refusing to let it rain on my parade. And I advocate this to other people.
Suddenly this defeat. This rain. The blues gone gray And the browns gone gray And yellow A terrible amber. In the cold streets Your warm body. In whatever room Your warm body. Among all the people Your absence The people who are always Not you. I have been easy with trees Too long. Too familiar with mountains. Joy has been a habit. Now Suddenly This rain.
I'm just waiting for people to start asking me to make the rain disappear.
You don't save a pitcher for tomorrow. Tomorrow it may rain.
Truths are first clouds; then rain, then harvest and food.
After three days men grow weary, of a wench, a guest, and weather rainy.
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