Rain has been setting the mood here the past couple of days, creating a pleasant sort of gloom.  In honor of that, I present you with:

Rain by Edward Thomas 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 Since I was born into solitude.

For the rest of the poem, go here.