“I dig old books.” ™
Welcome to my page of quotations about lovely, wonderful, life-giving rain!
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
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
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder....
~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "The Cloud"
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
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
sunlight shimmering through a leaf-clung raindrop
so heavy it has to fall but so happy it can't
like a rainy jewel, sparkling after the storm
a hummingbird lands ever so lightly 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
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 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