April Rain
It isn't raining rain to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on the hills.
The clouds of gray engulf the day,
And overwhelm the town;
It isn't raining rain to me,
It's raining roses down.
It isn't raining rain to me,
But fields of clover bloom,
Where any buccaneering bee,
May find a bed and room.
A health unto the happy,
A fig for him who frets--
It isn't raining rain to me,
It's raining violets.
-Robert Loveman
