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• 1 2022-06-11T07:42:30-04:00 Countee Cullen, "Night Rain" (1925) 2 plain 2022-06-11T07:43:48-04:00 02/01/1925
  
  I wake to the sound of a soft, low patter
  That comes like sudden news,
  Or like the slow, uncadenced clatter
  Of well-filled wooden shoes.
  
  I know I have not waked for long,
  That I shall dream again,
  that God has sent a slumber song
  Of dew and drowsy rain.
  
  I hear it rush the willows through,
  And strike the garden gate;
  Far off a love bird's plaintive coo
  Is answered of its mate.
  
  The night rain works a subtle charm
  Day showers never know;
  It make me burrow deep and warm
  Beneath my sheets of snow.
  
  It brims the pansy's eager cup,
  It dives to the oak's dank roots,
  Inquisitive, meanders up,
  And climbs the newest shoots.
  
  It drips a melancholy tune,
  As plunging fierce and deep,
  It scurries wild across the moon
  To steep my eyes in sleep. 
  
  Published in The Crisis, February 1925