Men Walk in Rain

FRUITS OF RAIN

MEN WALK IN RAIN

Men walk in rain with a furious quiet on them,

Thinking the rain a fruit from the tree of sky,

Or the wine of stars, or a silver stratagem

Keeping their singleness from the passer-by.

They walk coolly nourished in the separate calm,

Remembering trees in moonlight with a glow

Like phosphorescence on them for a balm.

They follow lonely roads they do not know.

Only before the sudden glare of light,

Thrown wetly from a window, do they see

How lost their image in the terrible night,

And run and hide their small mortality.