Edna St. Vincent Millay
Rain comes down
Rain comes down . . . and hushes the town . .
And where is the voice ... that I heard crying?
Snow settles over the nettles ...
Where is the voice that I heard crying?
Sand at last on the drifting mast ...
And where is the voice that I heard crying?
Earth now on the busy brow, ...
And where is the voice ... that I heard crying?