“The Song the Raindrops Sing” – a Nineteenth Century Poem

“April showers bring May flowers.” It has been raining a bit here in Brooklyn this April, so I suppose that there is something to the saying. Flowers are popping up, especially on the trees. The jury is still out for flowers in May, but I think that we will see a most favorable verdict. I came across a lovely poem about April showers while looking for an article prompt, so I decided to share it with you here. In this post, we will look at “The Song the Raindrops Sing” by Augusta Bryers, published in the April 15, 1899 issue of The Girl’s Own Paper.

On The Girl’s Own Paper and Augusta Bryers

The Girl’s Own Paper was a British magazine published for girls from 1880 to 1956. It has already featured in a couple of New Leaf Journal articles.

I tried in vain to find information about the author of “The Song the Raindrops Sing”, Augusta Bryers. Alas, the only result that came up for a specific search for her name in various search engines was the April 15, 1899 issue of The Girl’s Own Paper. I will venture that Ms. Bryers’s poem was a reader submission. We will have to let her lone (known) published work speak for itself.

“The Song the Raindrops Sing”

Below, I reprint the poem in its entirety from The Girl’s Own Paper on Project Gutennberg

“The Song the Raindrops Sing” by Augusta Bryers

I stood within my garden
     While fell the gentle rain
 On thirsty leaf and blossom,
     To bid them smile again.
 But my heart mourn'd sore the sunbeams
     And all the joys they bring,
 Till I heard, like sweet bells chiming,
     The song the raindrops sing.

 They told of fading flow'rets,
     Of little leaves that die,
 While the lark soars on unceasing,
     And sunlight floods the sky.
 And they said, "We are not teardrops,
     But tend'rest show'rs of love,
 To cheer the heart that's weary,
     And lift sad eyes above."

 And I thought, as fell the raindrops
     On fainting buds and leaves,
 So may sweet words and hopeful
     Wake for the heart that grieves.
 That to the world's great garden
     Each may his harvest bring,
 Thro' the sunshine or the storm-cloud,
     Or the song the raindrops sing.