| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Rains | | By Oscar Williams |
| | From “Golden Darkness”
IN the country the rain comes softly with timid feet; | |
| A grey silence is in her face, and strands of darkness blowing from her hair, | |
| And trees are dark in her eyes, and the wind is a mournful gesture. | |
| Softly the rain comes over the hills and her face is memory: | |
| It is filled with the twilight blowing of waves and grasses; | 5 |
| It is filled with shadowy cloud-paws feeling among the valleys; | |
| It is filled with the leap of trees that are instantly caught by the earth. | |
| The spirit of all things breathes on the invisible pane of time, | |
| And slowly out of the shadows the grey face of the rain comes into being— | |
| Softly the rain comes over the hills and her face is sorrow. | 10 |
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| But the rain in the city is a jazz rain: | |
| The legs of the rain in the city are nimble— | |
| She is loud on the stones, on the roof-tops, on the windows; | |
| Her dancing is filled with the sway and the glitter of tinsel. | |
| Behind her the street is a wide grin, showing the black teeth of houses— | 15 |
| The street is a wicked leer dark with ugly passion. | |
| But though the laughter of the jazz rain is coarse in the gutter, | |
| Though her legs are nimble and innumerable on the pavements, | |
| Though the jazz rain speaks so loud, | |
| The brazen rain has never a word for me. | 20 | | | |
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