Classic Poem

In the mist and the rain I met you,
—Scarcely I saw your face.
The buffeting wind beset you,
—And robbed you of your grace.
——My arms went round thee,
——My love found thee
———A resting place.

Therefore the sun at morning
—Is not so dear.
I cherish the wild warning
—Of love, not fear,
——That comes with rain crying
——And wind sighing,
———“She is here!”