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The Daily Dispatch: November 1, 1862., [Electronic resource] 1 1 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in The Daily Dispatch: November 1, 1862., [Electronic resource]. You can also browse the collection for P. P. Sompayrag or search for P. P. Sompayrag in all documents.

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The Autumn Rain.by Mrs. P. P. Sompayrag. She sits beside a lonely hearth, And listens to the autumn rain, Which, like a shower of sorrowing tears, Is falling on the window pane. Silent it comes from mossy eaves, And yet, throughout the livelong day, Upon the glass have tapped the leaves, Like withered fingers of decay; Drop, drop, drop, It patters on the roof, and falls Down mossy eaves and shelving walls. 'Tis dark I no sunbeams now may seize The prisoned rainbows in those drops; No liquid diamond, with its rays, The vagrant fancy wiles, and stops; But flickering shadows on the wall, Gliding like phantoms, round, about, The pattering raindrops, as they fall, In murmuring cadence from without, Drop, drop, drop; Lulling the senses to repose, A charm like music o'er her throws. Alone she dreams the eve away, Watching the glittering tongues of flame, Which mid the dying embers play, Like things which have a shape and name. The shadows of the sweet twilight Have faded into de