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April Rain by Robert Loveman









April Rain
by Robert Loveman


It isn't raining to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on the Hill.
The clouds of gray engulf the day
And overwhelmed 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 in room.
A health unto the happy,
A fig for him who frets –
It isn't raining to me,
It's raining violets.