Graffiti d'Italia/In the Rain

by William Wetmore Story

IN THE RAIN.

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I stand in the cold grey weather,
 In the white and silvery rain;
The great trees huddle together,
 And sway with the windy strain.
I dream of the purple glory
 Of the roseate mountain-height,
And the sweet-to-remember story
 Of a distant and dear delight.

The rain keeps constantly raining,
 And the sky is cold and grey,
And the wind in the trees keeps complaining,
 That summer has passed away;—
But the grey and the cold are haunted
 By a beauty akin to pain,—
By the sense of a something wanted,
 That never will come again.