Words for a rainy Thursday

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It isn’t raining rain to me,
It’s raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on the hills.
The clouds of grey engulf the day
And overwhelm the town —
It isn’t raining rain to me,
It’s raining roses down.

It isn’t raining rain to me,
But fields of clover bloom
Where any buccaneering bee may find a bed and room.
A health unto the happy,
A fig for him who frets!
It isn’t raining rain to me,
It’s raining violets.

By Robert Loveman

Image from here

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