University of Virginia Library


42

AFTER THE RAIN.

Whatever haunting care of life
About my spirit cleaves,
If I but walk abroad awhile
Among the breathing leaves,
It seems as it were left behind
Beneath the cottage eaves.
I do not ask for singing birds,
Or floods of golden light;
For if I do but ope the door
On a dull autumn night,
The shining rain-drops on the grass
Will set my spirit right.