Treasure Island

Mill Field

Nat Rain! Rain! Rain!

Cold and damp the fingers creep
Of mist by window panes,
And dull the light which filters through
The curtains' lacy veins.

Then, quick upon the listening ear,
The sound of rain soft falls,
A minute passed, it treads the roof
And beats upon the walls.

No sun is seen or vault of blue
Only the sway of trees,
And the stinging hiss of the ceaseless rain
Brings nature to its knees.

For many an hour the storm declames
In accents bold and strong,
Holding life's stage with epic power,
Man captive yet enthralled.

When darkling day has changed to night,
Night's darker gloom has fallen,
The whispering wet of the slumberless rain
Foretells a watery dawn.

But pleasant it is to close one's eyes
And drift to dreamland's shores
To the gentle hush of the shushing rain
Singing its lullaby.

Submitted: Sunday, July 15, 2007
Edited: Monday, March 21, 2011
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