Rain in the Mountains

The Valley's full of misty cloud,

    Its tinted beauty drowning,

The Eucalypti roar aloud,

    The mountain fronts are frowning.

The mist is hanging like a pall

    From many granite ledges,

And many a little waterfall

    Starts o’er the valley’s edges.

The sky is of a leaden grey,

    Save where the north is surly,

The driven daylight speeds away,

    And night comes o’er us early.

But, love, the rain will pass full soon,

    Far sooner than my sorrow,

And in a golden afternoon

    The sun may set to-morrow.