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I wish the sad rain,
And the clouds trooping and covering up the sun, remain—
For the sake of my poetry, which I coil up and write—
In a mood best fit for the middle of the night.
Coolness and cloudiness have made
This day a writing day. Poetry is best felt in the shade.
Were the sun to come out, I would leave for the hills
And poetry would be forgotten in those different thrills.
