The saddest sky of grey so
sheds its tears:
It weeps for those who
likewise fell in vain;
It mourns for those who
succumb to their fears,
And those who pass in noble
crimson rain.
“Look!,” it cries, “see
on the window pane,
See how the raindrops fall,
form, drip, and fade!
Likewise a lion sheds his
noble mane,
And humbly falls, to where
his father laid.
But man unknowingly tries to
hold fast
And looks for fame and
fortune which he holds.
He would have known that it
was not to last,
If he had list' to what the
rain had told.
And though no drop can know
what path is right,
The best ones sparkle when
they cross with light.
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