Rain
RAIN by EDWARD THOMAS
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be for what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.
| Title |
Rain
|
|---|---|
| Author |
Thomas, Edward (1878-1917)
|
| Item date |
1979
|
| Content | |
| Copyright |
Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd.
|
| Digital repository | |
| Repository name |
ProQuest
|
| Repository address URL | |
| First line |
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
|
| Publication source |
Edward Thomas Collected Poems
|
| Publication editor |
Thomas, George
|
| Publishers |
Faber and Faber
|
| Publication place |
London
|
Collection
Citation
“Rain,” by Thomas, Edward (1878-1917). Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd. via First World War Poetry Digital Archive, accessed April 25, 2024, http://ww1lit.nsms.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/collections/item/2936.
Permitted Use
This item is available for non-commercial educational use under the terms of the Jisc Model Licence. Further details available at: http://ww1lit.nsms.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/permitteduse
