Rain
From the French of
Emile Verhaeren
By Alma Strettell
Long as unending threads, the long-drawn rain
Interminably, with its nails of grey,
Athwart the dull grey day,
Rakes the green window-pane—
So infinitely, endlessly, the rain,
The long, long rain,
The rain.
Interminably, with its nails of grey,
Athwart the dull grey day,
Rakes the green window-pane—
So infinitely, endlessly, the rain,
The long, long rain,
The rain.
Since yesternight it keeps unravelling
Down from the frayed and flaccid rags that cling
About the sullen sky,
The low black sky;
Since yesternight, so slowly, patiently,
Unravelling its threads upon the roads,
Upon the roads and lanes, with even fall
Continual.
Down from the frayed and flaccid rags that cling
About the sullen sky,
The low black sky;
Since yesternight, so slowly, patiently,
Unravelling its threads upon the roads,
Upon the roads and lanes, with even fall
Continual.
Along the miles
That 'twixt the meadows and the suburbs lie,
By roads interminably bent, the files
That 'twixt the meadows and the suburbs lie,
By roads interminably bent, the files
Of
