The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review, June 1916
Amid the Weather
Amid the Weather.
We shall walk towards the South
And a mist of rain will wet
Our faces, but the drops are kind,
They only fall against the petals
Of your upturned cheek and lull
The music of your wreathing smile.
The rain is gentler than the wind.
Yet if your voice grow faint and never
In my had these fingers rest
Again, no tender rain will fall,
The south will wrap itself in storm,
Although the rain come soft to-day.
—M. E. H.