Sonnet.
The rain falls softly on the window eaves,1
And whispers lowly to the rustling grass,2
And loads the winds’ dusk pinions as they pass3
To shake the glittering moisture on the leaves.4
The rain sweeps where the great sea swells and heaves,5
And dimples all the locked lakes’ living glass ;6
The rain sobs round the home whose light she was,7
As with the hearts left desolate it grieves.8
And listening to its murmur all alone,9
I set its cadence to my yearning sorrow,10
And love’s mute longing for the Darling gone,11
From Nature’s wail seems strength renewed to borrow,12
Till I can hear the dull plash on the clay,13
Of that dear new-made grave, broad leagues away.14