Rain Poem by Denis McGuire

Pitter pat, it softly falls,
The rain upon the sill.
Harder, harder droplet falls,
Until the sound is shrill.

Rain beats down relentlessly,
It sounds as if to kill,
When with flashing all can see!
The thunders roaring still...

There we hear the voice of God,
A flash of anger seen.
Sobs of rain upon the sod,
To show his pain is keen.

For all the sins He's weeping,
For all sweet charity,
And not a soul can hear him,
But fools with poems, like me.