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| Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922. |
| Rain |
| We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind,—and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain. T. B. Aldrich—Before the Rain. | 1 |
| A little rain will fill The lily’s cup which hardly moists the field. Edwin Arnold—The Light of Asia. Bk. VI. L. 215. | 2 |
| She waits for me; my lady Earth, Smiles and waits and sighs; I’ll say her nay, and hide away, Then take her by surprise. Mary Mapes Dodge—How the Rain Comes. April. | 3 |
| How it pours, pours, pours, In a never-ending sheet! How it drives beneath the doors! How it soaks the passer’s feet! How it rattles on the shutter! How it rumples up the lawn! How ’twill sigh, and moan, and mutter, From darkness until dawn. Rossiter Johnson—Rhyme of the Rain. | 4 |
| Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Longfellow—An April Day. | 5 |
| And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain. Longfellow—Midnight Mass for the Dying Year. St. 4. | 6 |
| The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. Longfellow—The Rainy Day. | 7 |
| The ceaseless rain is falling fast, And yonder gilded vane, Immovable for three days past, Points to the misty main. Longfellow—Travels by the Fireside. St. 1. | 8 |
| It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on distant hills. Robert Loveman—April Rain. Appeared in Harper’s Mag. May, 1901. Erroneously attributed to Swama Rama, who copied it in the Thundering Dawn. Lahore. | 9 |
| He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass. Psalms. LXXII. 6. | 10 |
| For the rain it raineth every day. Twelfth Night. Act V. Sc. 1. Song. L. 401. | 11 |
| I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. Shelley—The Cloud. | 12 |
| I know Sir John will go, though he was sure it would rain cats and dogs. Swift—Polite Conversation. Dialogue II. | 13 |
| The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields; And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelusive drops; let all their moisture flow, In large effusion, o’er the freshen’d world. Thomson—The Seasons. Spring. L. 172. | 14 |
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