I

Il pleut doucement sur la ville.--RIMBAUD

Tears fall within mine heart, As rain upon the town: Whence does this languor start, Possessing all mine heart?

O sweet fall of the rain Upon the earth and roofs! Unto an heart in pain, O music of the rain!

Tears that have no reason Fall in my sorry heart: What! there was no treason? This grief hath no reason.

Nay! the more desolate, Because, I know not why, (Neither for love nor hate) Mine heart is desolate.