The friendly rain 
     
     Sings many a haunting strain, 
     
     N ow of gladness and now of dole, 
     
    
   
   
    
     Anon of the glamor and the dream 
     
    

    
     That ever seem 
     
    

    
     To wait on a pilgrim soul; 
     
    

    
     Yea, we can hear 
     
    

    
     The grief of an elder year, 
     
    

    
     And laughter half-forgotten and dear; 
     
    

    
     In the wind and the rain we find 
     
    

    
     Fellowship meet for each change of mood or mind.