
This poem expresses the perspective of a person encountering much rain, but looking past any inconvenience to the joy of spring flowers.
It is not raining rain to me,
It’s raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wildflowers on the hills.
April Rain [1901] st. 1
A health unto the happy!
A fig for him who frets!—
It is not raining rain to me,
It’s raining violets.
Ib. st. 4
--Robert Loveman (1864-1923)
If spring flowers have not yet sprung up in your area, I hope you are looking forward to the delights which increasing warm weather will surely bring. Have a great day!
Note on Illustrations: The Mayflower oil painting is in my dining room. The embroidery is in my guest room.



