Lizette Woodworth Reese
Oh, Gray And Tender Is The Rain
Oh, gray and tender is the rain,
That drips, drips on the pane!
A hundred things come in the door,
The scent of herbs, the thought of yore.
I see the pool out in the grass,
A bit of broken glass;
The red flags running wet and straight,
Down to the little flapping gate.
Lombardy poplars tall and three,
Across the road I see;
There is no loveliness so plain
As a tall poplar in the rain.
But oh, the hundred things and more,
That come in at the door! --
The smack of mint, old joy, old pain,
Caught in the gray and tender rain.
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Comments about this poem (Oh, Gray And Tender Is The Rain by Lizette Woodworth Reese )
- ANGER, ging taping
- Draw me in your heart, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- The thirst is a thorn., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Simple toys, hasmukh amathalal
- Acquaintance across the gender, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Begining of my love, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- What is all truth, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- Let all people, hasmukh amathalal
- To be successful…, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- This parts all without you, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
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