Blog by Priyanshi | Digital Diary

when the humid shadows hover  Over all the starry spheres  And the meiancholy darkness  Gently weeps in rainy tears, What a bliss to press the pillow Of a cottage- chamber bed  And lie listening to the patter Of the soft rain overhead! Every tinkle on the shingles.  Has an echo in the heart; And a thousand dreamy fancies  Into busy being start, And a thousand recollection  Weave their air-threads into woof, As I listen to the patter  Of the rain upon the roof. Now in memory comes my mother, As she used in years agone,  To regard the darling dreamers  Ere she left them till the dawn:  O! I feel her fond look on me As I listen to this refrain  Which is  played upon the shingles  By the patter of the rain.