She waits for me, my lady Earth, Smiles and waits and sighs; Ill say her nay, and hide away, Then take her by surprise. Mary Mapes Dodge.How the Rain Comes. April.
Last night, above the whistling wind, I heard the welcome rain, A fusillade upon the roof, A tattoo on the pane: The key-hole piped; the chimney-top A warlike trumpet blew. Bret Harte.A Sanitary Message.