The rainy day

I remembered a snippet of a poem I once read. I liked the first part the best, but I could not quite remember it. I used my powers and there, it was. Today has been rainy and windy indeed, and I enjoyed it. I should do so many things, but I'm not sure I could care. I am rather selectively social today, and am not very surprised to say that I do not feel much anticipation for wolf's coming home. It is all in the mood of wanting to be out in the world, I suppose. The wind always speaks to me of other places.
I have no idea how to approach this. It is in the mood of the saying "Where do you run when the earth becomes your enemy?"


For your enjoyment, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.