Page:Impressions- A Book of Verse.djvu/65

 A RAINY DAY WITH THE ANTHOLOGY

HE skies frown on me through the falling rain, I smile on them for answer, and return To my low chair beside the fire again And to my book upon whose pages burn Verses whose beauty makes all else seem vain.

What though the rain pour down from dawn to night, What though my door turn on its hinge to none, I would not have these fancies put to flight, But dream these dreams unbroken and alone, Naught to disturb this delicate delight.