all yesterday it poured, and all night long
i could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat
upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
upon the grass like running children's feet.
and down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed,
like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,
slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist,
and nestled soft against the earth's wet breast.
but lo, there was a miracle at dawn!
the still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,
the sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn,
the songsters twittered in the rustling trees.
and all things were transfigured in the day,
but me whom radiant beauty could not move;
for you, more wonderful, were far away,
and I was blind with hunger for your love.
by Claude McKay
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