It feels the driving rain—ah, me!
The chill, and mould, and rain.
“Four laggard months have wheeled their round
Since love upon it smiled,
And everything of earth has frowned
On thy poor stricken child,—sweet friend;
Thy weary, suffering child.
“I’d watched my loved one night and day,
Scarce breathing when he slept,
And as my hopes were swept away,