Rainy Sunday

September 26th, 2010

Westron wind, when wilt thou blow?
The small rain down can rain.
Christ, that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again!

This anonymous poem from the 16th century has stuck in my mind since the first time I read it and memorized it. Just four simple lines, but how powerful and intense. Thinking of it now as the rain pours down on this gray Sunday and wondering about the person who wrote it hundreds of years ago — maybe someone at war or at sea, far from home, far from someone he loved. It never fails to make me feel haunted and hollow inside and yet awed by how the words are able to reach out over time and space to catch at my heart on a rainy Sunday.

2 Responses to “Rainy Sunday”

  1. So much longing in that poem–for change, for love, for home. I can see why it moved you and continues to move you. The wonder of poetry–to collect our experience and deliver it in such a perfect package.

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