Part 3 — APRIL RAIN
Reading edition
It is not raining rain for 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 is not raining rain to me, It's raining roses down.
It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee Can find a bed and room.
A health unto the happy, A fig for him who frets! It is not raining rain to me, It's raining violets.
Robert Loveman [1864-1923]