April Rain

It is not raining rain to me,
It's raining daffodils;
In every dimpled drop I see
Wild flowers on the hills.

The clouds of gray engulf the day
And overwhelm the town;
It is not raining rain to me,
It's raining roses down.

It is not raining rain to me,
But fields of clocer bloom,
Where any buccaneering bee
May find a bed and room.

A health unto the happy!
A fig for him who frets!
It is not raining rain to me
It's raining violets.

by Robert Loveman