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The rain, the rain, the beautiful rain,
Descends on the grass and the golden grain;
Refreshing the leaves and the fading flowers,
Singing a song to the fleeting hours.


The murmuring rain, the gentle shower
Drips through the trees in the woodland bower,
Falls on the roof and sinks to the sea,
Where it waters the shores of memory.


Well I remember the days of old,
The cottage porch, and the love she told,
The rain that danced on the trailing vine,
And the beautiful hand that lay in mine.


The snow and the rain of long, long years
Have chilled my heart with the hopes and fears
That filled my soul in the long ago,
Before I had learned the weight of woe.


Her little mound in the churchyard near
I deck with a flower, spray and tear,
Mingle my sighs with the sounding rain,
And wish for that soft white hand again.


A few more days of pleasure and pain
And I shall sleep 'neath the falling rain,
And all the living above the sod
Must leave their trials and go to God.


It matters little to you or to me
Whether we die on the land or the sea;
The sun will shine and the rain will fall
And a generous grave will hide us all.