Quotes about Rain

And all was silent as before, —
All silent save the dripping rain.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn. — The Second Day, Book First, “Prelude,” 1872

But I am sure that it is a great mistake always to know enough to go in when it rains. One may keep snug and dry by such knowledge, but one misses a world of loveliness. There is, after all, a certain wisdom that sees the desirability of taking the showers as they come. ~Adeline Knapp, This Then Is Upland Pastures, Being Some Out-door Essays Dealing with the Beautiful Things that the Spring and Summer Bring, 1897

Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby…
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—
And I love the rain.
~Langston Hughes, “April Rain Song,” 1921

A rainy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods. I always thought so myself; the Maine woods never seem so fresh and alive as in wet weather. Then all the needles on the evergreens wear a sheath of silver; ferns seem to have grown to almost tropical lushness and every leaf has its edging of crystal drops. ~Rachel Carson, “Help Your Child to Wonder,” 1956

There’s an element of suspense in the air. The air is charged and dense… There’s always a period of curious fear between the first sweet-smelling breeze and the time when the rain comes cracking down. ~Don DeLillo, “The Desert,” The Names, 1982

The sky was dark and gloomy, the air was damp and raw, the streets were wet and sloppy. The smoke hung sluggishly above the chimney-tops as if it lacked the courage to rise, and the rain came slowly and doggedly down, as if it had not even the spirit to pour. ~Charles Dickens, The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, 1836–1837

There are many things I do for amusement, but for happiness I like to gather up my memories and go for a walk in the rain. ~Robert Brault, 2014, rbrault.blogspot.com

And at last it comes. You hear a patter… you see a leaf here and there bob and blink about you; you feel a spot on your face, on your hand. And then the gracious rain comes, gathering its forces — steady, close, abundant. Lean out of window, and watch, and listen. How delicious!… the verandah beneath losing its scattered spots in a sheet of luminous wet; and, never pausing, the close, heavy, soft-rushing noise… ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

Tell me how many beads there are
      In a silver chain
      Of evening rain,
Unravelled from the tumbling main…
~Thomas Lovell Beddoes (1803–1849), Torrismond; an Unfinished Drama

Earth and rain — dust and desire — what mingled odor of these is not sweet? ~Virginia Garland, “The Rain,” Out West: A Magazine of the Old Pacific and the New, February 1908

Suddenly all the sky is hid
As with the shutting of a lid,
One by one great drops are falling
Doubtful and slow,
Down the pane they are crookedly crawling,
And the wind breathes low;
Slowly the circles widen on the river,
Widen and mingle, one and all;
Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver,
Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall.
~James Russell Lowell, “Summer Storm,” 1839

I ran into the street barefoot and danced with my mouth open. ~Barbara Kingsolver, “Making Peace,” 1998 [Her first experience with Arizona summer storms, in 1978. Yippee, rain! I do this too! –tg]

Rain is beautiful when it comes hurried and passionate, fleeing from the storm wind, hurled, like a volley of small musketry, against your streaming panes… It is beautiful in the Midsummer, when it comes in light, soft showers, or, more in earnest, accompanied with thunder-music, straight and heavy; when, as the poet says—
      “Rolling as in sleep,
      Low thunders bring the mellow rain.”
~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863 [Vernon is quoting Tennyson, from “The Talking Oak.” –tg]

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts to‑night, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply…
~Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950)

It is one of the secrets of Nature in its mood of mockery that fine weather lays a heavier weight on the mind and hearts of the depressed and the inwardly tormented than does a really bad day with dark rain sniveling continuously and sympathetically from a dirty sky… ~Muriel Spark, Territorial Rights, 1979

The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected; I have always considered the rain to be healing — a blanket — the comfort of a friend. Without at least some rain in any given day, or at least a cloud or two on the horizon, I feel overwhelmed by the information of sunlight and yearn for the vital, muffling gift of falling water. ~Douglas Coupland, Life After God, 1994

Troubles are usually the brooms and shovels that smooth the road to a man’s good fortune, of which he little dreams; and many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away hunger… ~Giambattista Basile (c.1575–1632), The Pentamerone, or The Story of Stories, translated from the Neapolitan by John Edward Taylor, 1848

But the true lover of rain… has a deep inner enjoyment of the rain, as rain, and his sense of its beauty drinks it in as thirstily as does the drinking earth. It refreshes and cools his heart and brain; he longs to go forth into the fields, to feel its steady stream, to scent its fragrance; to stand under some heavy-foliaged chestnut-tree, and hear the rushing music on the crowded leaves. ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been…
~Edward Thomas (1878–1917), “Rain,” 1916

Some people feel the rain — others just get wet. ~Roger Miller, 1972

The sound of the rain needs no translation. ~Morimoto-roshi

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain. ~Author unknown

Playing in the rain is gratitude for life, a dancing prayer of thanks to nature. ~Terri Guillemets

I like people who smile when it’s raining. ~Author unknown

For after all, the best thing one can do
When it is raining, is to let it rain.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Poet’s Tale: The Birds of Killingworth,” Tales of a Wayside Inn, 1863

Thick drops whispering about me
Splutter soft and plash my shelter,
Foaming at my feet I see
Rushing gutter streams which skelter,
Crystal pools reflecting grass blades…
Shining pavements rainbow shades…
Thin thoughts whispering about me
Splutter soft and plash my shelter…
~Eda Lou Walton, “Under an Umbrella,” c.1919

Fog is rain that whispers. ~Olivia Dresher

It was a messy, whipping, every-which-direction, cold drops in warm air, big-splattered summer rain. ~Terri Guillemets

Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains as no artist could ever do! ~Henry Ward Beecher, “The Mountain Farm to the Sea-side Farm,” 1855 August 24th

The rain falls gently down,
and slowly fills my cup.
This never would have happened,
If raindrops all fell up!
~Tom Batiuk, “Funky Winkerbean,” 1979 July 31st

Rain is a wet apology for the drought. ~Terri Guillemets, “Desert emotions,” 2004

Hush! Still as death,
The tempest holds his breath
As from a sudden will;
The rain stops short, but from the eaves
You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves,
All is so bodingly still…
~James Russell Lowell, “Summer Storm,” 1839

The crisp drenching rustle from the dry foliage of the perceptibly grateful trees… the little plants, in speechless ecstasy, receiving cupful after cupful into the outspread leaves, that silently empty their gracious load, time after time, into the still expecting roots, and open their hands still for more. ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

Rain utters poetry in drops, splats, and puddles. ~Terri Guillemets

Good night. I have said my prayer with the forest; stood to the dark and the rain; cast my voice on the storm. Though my body shall lie in heavy slumber, my petition has gone on, caught and carried in the surge of the trees, whirled in high vortex over the mountain, drifting in black mists through the fertile night. Acknowledged, answered, in the drip of the rain. ~Virginia Garland, “The Rain,” Out West: A Magazine of the Old Pacific and the New, February 1908

…joy-edged clouds
raining on the live-green earth
refreshing its nature glory…
~Terri Guillemets, “Sunbeamed joy,” 2011

The doors of abysmal gloom swing wide. Under the covert of the night the storm breaks loose. The heavily breathing earth, no longer passive, starts, turns with exhilarant response under a torrent of tingling rain… The swirling song of the storm calls to some dim, long-forgotten instinct, which is suddenly unleashed. I am athirst for the unencumbered impact of the rain… My shoulders are mantled in running scarves of rain… Over and through all, the soaking, palpable darkness, penetrating deep, deep, to the heart of the earth. ~Virginia Garland, “The Rain,” Out West: A Magazine of the Old Pacific and the New, February 1908

A Ribes close by is covered with hanging pink blossoms; the intense green of the steep bank is due to there having hitherto been more April tears than smiles. ~Lady John Manners, “Belvoir at Eastertide,” in The Garden: An Illustrated Weekly Journal of Horticulture In All Its Branches, 1886 May 8th

sunlight shimmering through a leaf-clung raindrop
so heavy it has to fall but so happy it can’t
like a rainy jewel, sparkly after the storm
a hummingbird lands on the tree
and whoosh! the gem falls free
~Terri Guillemets, “The poetry of raindrops,” 2015

Meantime there came a shower, which so besprinkled the grass and shrubbery as to make it rather wet for our after-tea ramble. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne, journal, 1842 August 15th

The rain cools the air, calms the soul and replenishes life. ~Mike Dolan, 2015, @HawaiianLife

Rain showers my spirit
and waters my soul.
~Terri Guillemets

The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you’d just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency. ~Susan Allen Toth, England For All Seasons, 1997

Walking through puddles is my favorite metaphor for life. ~Terri Guillemets, “Evening walk in solitude,” 1989

For months we have had scarcely any rain… The grass and the trees have seemed to remain at a standstill, as though waiting for something. When I pour waterpot after waterpot of water about the roots of some favourite or needy plant, the water runs off the caked ground… seemingly, without quenching the fever-thirst of the earth…. the beauty of rain is a thing often missed, I think, even by those who do keep, as they pass through this world, a keen eye for the Creator’s thoughts, embodied in beauty about them… ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

I’m wet in rain
that never falls.
~Juan Hernández-Senter, “It Never Rains Here,” Misquotations and Other Poems, 1990

It’s a rare, good morning when the most difficult thing I have to do is sip my coffee and decide which I like better — a steady, lulling winter rain, or a big-drop, splattery-plopping summer’s rain. ~Terri Guillemets

It is beautiful when it rains far away in the distance, the bright sun shining on the mound on which you stand, and only a few guerilla drops heralding the approach of the shower towards you. ~John Richard Vernon, “The Beauty of Rain,” 1863

Weather is a great metaphor for life — sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and there’s nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella or choose to dance in the rain! ~Terri Guillemets, “Homeward bound in the crashing of the rain,” 1991  [ღS&G –tg]

Rain Quotations
Original post date: 2000 Apr 24
1st major revision: 2001 Sept 29
2nd major revision: 2012 Sept 3
3rd major revision: 2018 Nov 9