Jean Starr Untermeyer

I HAVE always hated the rain,

And the gloom of grayed skies.

But now I think I must always cherish

Rain-hung leaf and the misty river;

And the friendly screen of dripping green

Where eager kisses were shyly given,

And your pipe-smoke made clouds in our damp, close heaven.

The curious laggard passed us by,

His wet shoes soughed on the shining walk.

And that afternoon was filled with a blurred glory—

That afternoon, when we first talked as lovers.