That The Rain Rains On
I stand by the grave the old-time grave
In the drift of the falling rain ;
My heart goes back to an afternoon
In the spring of life again,
When mother was carried the churchyard thro',
When April was dead and gone ;
And a voice said ' Happy, happy, happy,
Happy the corpse that the rain rains on.'
My heart went back much further yet,
To a time when mother and I
Stood out on the wet and the shining grass,
While above was the clearing sky ;
She plucked a lilac all drooping wet
And dark with its perfume on,
' The lilac is sweet the lilac is sweet,
The lilac is sweet that the rain rains on.'
Boy as I was when mother died,
I stole thro' the creeping wet,
And placed in her dear white hands a bunch
Of lilacs and mignonette ;
And the rain fell soft in the May morn light
Her glistening coffin on ;
And the voice said ' Happy, happy, happy,
Happy tbe corpse that the rain rains on.'
poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
Added by Poetry Lover
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