Classic Poem

As one who listens to the summer rain
Against the roof when all the night is still,
Save for the wind beneath the window-sill,
Crooning its homely, comforting refrain,--
And listening feels that neither joy nor pain
Can trouble now--only the faint sweet thrill
Of drowsiness and peace and rest until
The barque glides softly into sleep's domain;

So I, whose empty way leads wandering
Between high garden-walls that hide the sun,
Hear sometimes on the breeze a simple strain
Of an old song you once were wont to sing--
And then forgetting all, I seem as one
Who listens spell-bound to the summer rain.