Long shines the line of wet lamps dark in gleaming, <br />The trees so still felt yet as strength not used, <br />February chills April, the cattle are housed, <br />And nights grief from the higher things comes streaming. <br /> <br />The trade is all gone, the elver-fishers gone <br />To string their lights 'long Severn like a wet Fair. <br />If it were fine the elvers would swim clear, <br />Clothes sodden, the out-of-work stay on.<br /><br />Ivor Gurney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rainy-midnight/
