WIDE downs all gray, with gray of clouds roofed over, br Chill fields stripped naked of their gown of grain, br Small fields of rain-wet grass and close-grown clover, br Wet, wind-blown trees--and, over all, the rain. br br Does memory lie? For Hope her missal closes br So far away the may and roses seem; br Ah! was there ever a garden red with roses? br Ah! were you ever mine save in a dream? br br So long it is since Spring, the skylark waking br Heard her own praises in his perfect strain; br Low hang the clouds, the sad year's heart is breaking, br And mine, my heart--and, over all, the rain.