Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.

Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining;
Thy fate is read more

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.

We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed
The white of their leaves, the amber grain
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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.

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light read more

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.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

But when I came, alas, to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering read more

But when I came, alas, to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.

The ceaseless rain is falling fast,
And yonder gilded vane,
Immovable for three days past,
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The ceaseless rain is falling fast,
And yonder gilded vane,
Immovable for three days past,
Points to the misty main.

And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.

And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.

How it pours, pours, pours,
In a never-ending sheet!
How it drives beneath the doors!
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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.

It is not raining to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
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It is not raining to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on distant hills.