Oh! Grey And Tender Is The Rain Poem by May Mustang

Oh, gray and tender is the rain,
That drips upon the pane.
A hundred things come in through the door,
The scent of herbs, the thought of yore.

I see the crystal pool out in the grass,
It is a shard, a bit of broken glass;
The glass tells its story of past pain
As it is coated in the rain.

Lombardy poplars tall and three,
Across the road is what I see;
There is no loveliness, O! so plain
Like a tall, bare maple in the rain.

But oh, the hundred things and more,
That come in through the door!
The scent of mint, old joy, old pain,
Caught in the gray and tender rain.