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The Rain-Drop
The rain-drop, the rain drop,
Its soft and tiny feet
Keep up a pleasant pattering
Along the dusty street.
The rain drop, the rain drop,
It falls on the stream,
And floats in gladsomeness along
Beneath the sunny beam.
The rain drop, the rain drop,
It whispers to my ear -
“I am but lent to earth - not given -
I must not stay here:
Soon as the golden Sun shall shine
In an unclouded sky,
Borne on the gentle breeze I’ll haste
To my sweet home on high!
And, when all nature seems athirst,
On mountain, hill and plain,
The bright and sparkling rain-drop
Will visit you again!”
By Richard Coe: “Poems” (1850), pages 23 and 24; type of work: collected poems by a single author
The rain-drop, the rain drop,
Its soft and tiny feet
Keep up a pleasant pattering
Along the dusty street.
The rain drop, the rain drop,
It falls on the stream,
And floats in gladsomeness along
Beneath the sunny beam.
The rain drop, the rain drop,
It whispers to my ear -
“I am but lent to earth - not given -
I must not stay here:
Soon as the golden Sun shall shine
In an unclouded sky,
Borne on the gentle breeze I’ll haste
To my sweet home on high!
And, when all nature seems athirst,
On mountain, hill and plain,
The bright and sparkling rain-drop
Will visit you again!”
By Richard Coe: “Poems” (1850), pages 23 and 24; type of work: collected poems by a single author
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