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

 

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.

The Rainy Day…(An Excerpt) by Henry Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

battered petals 2 SB

I think old Henry must of been going through a rough patch long about then. For me, I was awakened by the wind and rain pounding the house as the first Fall storm arrived…a touch early for my liking. The flowers’ colors and vibrance that I so enjoy going into the Fall are battered and bent. This time of year, this transition into months of rain and chill came too early for my liking. But, it will help flush the Salmon and Steelhead up to safety, if not frustrate the fishers along the way with blown out rivers.