The Poetry Corner

A Rainy Day.

By Hattie Howard

Oh, what a blessed interval A rainy day may be! No lightning flash nor tempest roar, But one incessant, steady pour Of dripping melody; When from their sheltering retreat Go not with voluntary feet The storm-beleaguered family, Nor bird nor animal. When business takes a little lull, And gives the merchantman A chance to seek domestic scenes, To interview the magazines, Convoke his growing clan, The boys and girls almost unknown, And get acquainted with his own; As well the household budget scan, Or write a canticle. When farmer John ransacks the barn, Hunts up the harness old - Nigh twenty years since it was new - Puts in an extra thong or two, And hopes the thing will hold Without that missing martingale That bothered Dobbin, head and tail, He, gentle equine, safe controlled But by a twist of yarn. When busy fingers may provide A savory repast To whet the languid appetite, And give to eating a delight Unknown since seasons past; Avaunt, ill-cookery! whose ranks Develop dull dyspeptic cranks Who, forced to diet or to fast, Ergo, have dined and died. It is a day of rummaging, The closets to explore; To take down from the dusty shelves The books - that never read themselves - And turning pages o'er Discover therein safely laid The bills forgot and never paid - Somehow that of the corner store Such dunning memories bring. It gives a chance to liquidate Epistolary debts; To write in humble penitence Acknowledging the negligence, The sin that so besets, And cheer the hearts that hold us dear, Who've known and loved us many a year - Back to the days of pantalets And swinging on the gate. It gives occasion to repair Unlucky circumstance; To intercept the ragged ends, And for arrears to make amends By mending hose and pants; The romping young ones to re-dress Without those signs of hole-y-ness That so bespeak the mendicants By every rip and tear. It is a time to gather round The old piano grand, Its dulcet harmonies unstirred Since Lucy sang so like a bird, And played with graceful hand; Like Lucy's voice in pathos sweet Repeating softly "Shall we meet?" Is only in the heavenly land Such clear soprano sound. It is a time for happy chat En cercle tte--tte; Discuss the doings of the day, The club, the sermon, or the play, Affairs of church and state; Fond reminiscence to explore The pleasant episodes of yore, And so till raindrops all abate As erst on Ararat. Ah, yes, a rainy day may be A blessed interval! A little halt for introspect, A little moment to reflect On life's discrepancy - Our puny stint so poorly done, The larger duties scarce begun - And so may conscience culpable Suggest a remedy.