Victor
B . Neuburg .
And
rain , gray , ceaseless
rain ,
Insistent , nagging, dull,
Comes , like
a
dreary
pain
On
a
face
grown
beautiful
By patient
suffering .
Soft
rain -drops
sting .
The
fields are
bare ; the
hills ,
Still
barer
in
the
gray ,
Stand
stark , and
silence
fills
The
empty , useless
day ,
Silent , save for rain ,
Dead ,
save for
pain .
And
the weary , changeless
sea
With
spiritless
white
foam
Lies level as
a
lea
Under
the
empty
dome :
No life
on
sea
or
earth ;
A
cold ,
slow
dearth .
But
the swallows
cry
in
the rain ,
And
a gull
that
floats
on
the
sea
,
Cries
out and cries out again
,
In
listless monotony
.
And
the wind
cries
and
cries
,
And
never
dies
.
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