The Gray Day
Rain , and the mist, and lowering skies,
An opaque haze that will not lift;
And yet I remember her wondrous eyes,
Her velvet eyes, in which love lies,
As into the past my dream-boats drift.
So, what if the rain falls ceaselessly?
My heart can sing of that memory!
The damp leaves shiver, the great trees nod
In the silent wood, where the wet winds sigh;
And yet I remember the paths we trod,
Together we trod, on the sunlit sod,
In the past that is ours, my love and I.
So what if the skies are dark as night?
There were other days that she made bright!
The twilight comes ere ever the sun
Has pierced the gloom of the clouds that cling;
Yet I remember her smile, that won
Me back to hope when I thought life done —
That wonderful, sun-filled day in spring.
So, why should I care for a day that is gray —
When memory holds that day, alway?
An opaque haze that will not lift;
And yet I remember her wondrous eyes,
Her velvet eyes, in which love lies,
As into the past my dream-boats drift.
So, what if the rain falls ceaselessly?
My heart can sing of that memory!
The damp leaves shiver, the great trees nod
In the silent wood, where the wet winds sigh;
And yet I remember the paths we trod,
Together we trod, on the sunlit sod,
In the past that is ours, my love and I.
So what if the skies are dark as night?
There were other days that she made bright!
The twilight comes ere ever the sun
Has pierced the gloom of the clouds that cling;
Yet I remember her smile, that won
Me back to hope when I thought life done —
That wonderful, sun-filled day in spring.
So, why should I care for a day that is gray —
When memory holds that day, alway?
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