The Day It Rained

The day is cold, and dark, and drear;
It rains, and the wind does not wear;
The vine still clings to the mold hung wall,
But at each gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and drear.

My life is cold, and dark, and drear;
It rains, and the wind does not wear;
My thoughts still cling to the mold hung Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and drear.

Be still, sad heart! and cease your whines;
Behind the clouds the sun still shines;
Thy fate is the same fate of us all,
And in each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and drear.

                                -- Hank Long Guy

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