WINTER RAIN.

Falling upon the frozen world last night,

I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain —

Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;

The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might,

Far better had the fixedness of white

And uncomplaining snows — which make no sign,

But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine —

Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.

Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,

I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.

Though sinewy Fate deals her most skillful blow,

I do not waste the gall now of my tears,

But feed my pride upon its bitter, while

I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.