A RAINY DAY.
THEclouds have darkened down again,And all the world is sad with rain,As if the dead of many yearsWere all awake and shedding tears.Before the window-pane I standAnd gaze upon the reeking land,Till I am cold and damply blue,Dejected quite, and shivering too.Roll up, thou blesséd luxury,Thou ample arm-chair made for me!Roll up before the open fire,Whose merry flames leap high and higher.I’d rather watch these devils play,Than see the angels weep all day!Bring me my pipe, whose ample bowlIs filled with that which cheers the soul;Soft comfort’s very essence liesIn the weed which only fools despise!Bring, too, a glass with taper waist,Broad, shallow, and demurely chaste;Meet vessel for the quickening wineThat knoweth not chill sorrow’s brine!The clinging smoke curls lovinglyAbout, as if caressing me;And with a most entrancing pop,The wine flows forth with gems atop,Which, sparkling, burst in tiny sprayAs if small sprites were there at play.The dreary drip I cannot see—I sip my “Clicquot” cozily,And need no further joy than this,Together with my meerchaum’s kiss.The weather’s just as bright for me,As if the sun were high and free!So what care I for all the rain?I’m happy till it shines again!
THEclouds have darkened down again,And all the world is sad with rain,As if the dead of many yearsWere all awake and shedding tears.Before the window-pane I standAnd gaze upon the reeking land,Till I am cold and damply blue,Dejected quite, and shivering too.Roll up, thou blesséd luxury,Thou ample arm-chair made for me!Roll up before the open fire,Whose merry flames leap high and higher.I’d rather watch these devils play,Than see the angels weep all day!Bring me my pipe, whose ample bowlIs filled with that which cheers the soul;Soft comfort’s very essence liesIn the weed which only fools despise!Bring, too, a glass with taper waist,Broad, shallow, and demurely chaste;Meet vessel for the quickening wineThat knoweth not chill sorrow’s brine!The clinging smoke curls lovinglyAbout, as if caressing me;And with a most entrancing pop,The wine flows forth with gems atop,Which, sparkling, burst in tiny sprayAs if small sprites were there at play.The dreary drip I cannot see—I sip my “Clicquot” cozily,And need no further joy than this,Together with my meerchaum’s kiss.The weather’s just as bright for me,As if the sun were high and free!So what care I for all the rain?I’m happy till it shines again!
THEclouds have darkened down again,And all the world is sad with rain,As if the dead of many yearsWere all awake and shedding tears.Before the window-pane I standAnd gaze upon the reeking land,Till I am cold and damply blue,Dejected quite, and shivering too.Roll up, thou blesséd luxury,Thou ample arm-chair made for me!Roll up before the open fire,Whose merry flames leap high and higher.I’d rather watch these devils play,Than see the angels weep all day!Bring me my pipe, whose ample bowlIs filled with that which cheers the soul;Soft comfort’s very essence liesIn the weed which only fools despise!Bring, too, a glass with taper waist,Broad, shallow, and demurely chaste;Meet vessel for the quickening wineThat knoweth not chill sorrow’s brine!The clinging smoke curls lovinglyAbout, as if caressing me;And with a most entrancing pop,The wine flows forth with gems atop,Which, sparkling, burst in tiny sprayAs if small sprites were there at play.The dreary drip I cannot see—I sip my “Clicquot” cozily,And need no further joy than this,Together with my meerchaum’s kiss.The weather’s just as bright for me,As if the sun were high and free!So what care I for all the rain?I’m happy till it shines again!
THEclouds have darkened down again,
And all the world is sad with rain,
As if the dead of many years
Were all awake and shedding tears.
Before the window-pane I stand
And gaze upon the reeking land,
Till I am cold and damply blue,
Dejected quite, and shivering too.
Roll up, thou blesséd luxury,
Thou ample arm-chair made for me!
Roll up before the open fire,
Whose merry flames leap high and higher.
I’d rather watch these devils play,
Than see the angels weep all day!
Bring me my pipe, whose ample bowl
Is filled with that which cheers the soul;
Soft comfort’s very essence lies
In the weed which only fools despise!
Bring, too, a glass with taper waist,
Broad, shallow, and demurely chaste;
Meet vessel for the quickening wine
That knoweth not chill sorrow’s brine!
The clinging smoke curls lovingly
About, as if caressing me;
And with a most entrancing pop,
The wine flows forth with gems atop,
Which, sparkling, burst in tiny spray
As if small sprites were there at play.
The dreary drip I cannot see—
I sip my “Clicquot” cozily,
And need no further joy than this,
Together with my meerchaum’s kiss.
The weather’s just as bright for me,
As if the sun were high and free!
So what care I for all the rain?
I’m happy till it shines again!
H. J. Livermore.
H. J. Livermore.
H. J. Livermore.