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