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Poem by Edward Thomas


Rain


Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint. 



Edward Thomas

Poem Theme: Rain

Edward Thomas's other poems:
  1. The Cuckoo
  2. For These
  3. The Other
  4. The Long Small Room
  5. The Ash Grove


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Charles Sorley Rain ("When the rain is coming down") October 1912
  • Ebenezer Jones Rain ("More than the wind, more than the snow")

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