As we pointed out in the Spring 2012 issue of QSB Magazine, April is Poetry Month.  Do you have a favorite poem or favorite poet?  T.S. Eliot is, upon occasion, my favorite poet (I’m suffering from failure to choose).  Then there’s Robert Hass.  And Emily Dickinson.  And I did spend two years studying Petrarca in the original (don’t ask…really, don’t go there).

Longfellow‘s “The Rainy Day” is a favorite work–most likely because lines were frequently quoted in my house when I was growing up (thanks, Dad! it’s not very cheerful) and the poem is stuck in my head to this day.  In fact, I thought it was a perfect poem for our winter issue but it didn’t rain so I couldn’t take any appropriate illustrative photos.  Stupid weather.  You haven’t dodged that bullet, though, for here’s “The Rainy Day” in its entirety:

The Rainy Day 
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 
    And the day is dark and dreary.       
 
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
    And the days are dark and dreary.        
 
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall, 
    Some days must be dark and dreary.

And how about you?  Poems?  Poets?  Do tell.