The Music Of The Rain Poem by Samuel Alfred Beadle

There's music in the rain,
As on the roof it drops,
And its monotonous tap, tap
Beats on the window pane;
Or murmuring it stops
A moment on the dripping eaves.


There's music in the rain
When it falls the leaves among,
And spatters in the viney nooks
And sparkles on the grain;
All earth has found a tongue,
And its loud hallelujahs ring.


Oh! the music of the rain,
See it comes pouring down,
Bright and joyous o'er field and plain,
While its golden currents drain
The smooth and verdured lawn,
And then run bickering to the main.


There's music in the rain,
When all the winds arise,
And livid lightning marks the path
Of the dread hurricane;
While in the clouded skies
Old thunder beats the martial airs.


There's music in the rain
When all the winds are still,
When lightning's flash and thunder's roll
Are stilled and mute again;
And you feel the heart's thrill
When the storm cloud goes racking by.


There's music in the rain
When the clouds are clearing off,
And sunny beams come struggling through
The silver of the rain,
Where hope's arch stands alof'
In the reflux of the storms.