Graffiti d'Italia/In the Rain

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IN THE RAIN.

I stand in the cold grey weather, In the white and silvery rain;The great trees huddle together, And sway with the windy strain.I dream of the purple glory Of the roseate mountain-height,And the sweet-to-remember story Of a distant and dear delight.
The rain keeps constantly raining, And the sky is cold and grey,And the wind in the trees keeps complaining, That summer has passed away;— ​But the grey and the cold are haunted By a beauty akin to pain,—By the sense of a something wanted, That never will come again.
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