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The Old Soldier’s Story

by James Whitcomb Riley

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When It Rains

When it rains, and with the rain
  Never bird has heart to sing,
And across the window-pane
  Is no sunlight glimmering;
When the pitiless refrain
  Brings a tremor to the lips,
Our tears are like the rain
  As it drips, drips, drips—
  Like the sad, unceasing rain as it drips.

When the light of heaven’s blue
  Is blurred and blotted quite,
And the dreary day to you
  Is but a long twilight;
When it seems that ne’er again
  Shall the sun break its eclipse,
Our tears are like the rain
  As it drips, drips, drips—
  Like the endless, friendless rain as it drips.

When it rains! weary heart,
  O be of better cheer!
The leaden clouds will part,
  And the morrow will be clear;
Take up your load again,
  With a prayer upon your lips,
Thanking Heaven for the rain
  As it drips, drips, drips—
  With the golden bow of promise as it drips.

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