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Let the rain kiss you. let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. let the rain sing you a lullaby. the rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. the rain makes running pools in the gutter. the rain plays a little sellp-song on our roof at night- and i love the rain.

-Langston Hughes

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Let The Rain Kiss You. Let The

Langston Hughes

Let the rain kiss you. let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. let the rain sing you a lullaby. the rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. the rain makes running pools in the gutter. the rain plays a little sellp-song on our roof at night- and i love the rain.

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<blockquote style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; border-left: 4px solid #8b5cf6; padding-left: 15px; margin: 20px 0; background: #f9f9f9; padding: 15px; border-radius: 4px; color: #333;">
    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"let the rain kiss you. let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. let the rain sing you a lullaby. the rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. the rain makes running pools in the gutter. the rain plays a little sellp-song on our roof at night- and i love the rain."</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— Langston Hughes</footer>
    <p style="margin-top: 15px; font-size: 0.85rem;"><a href="https://pjdigitalmarketing.com/quote/let-the-rain-kiss-you-let-the-rain-beat-upon-your-head-lto98" style="color: #8b5cf6; text-decoration: none;">View this quote on Pjdigitalmarketing.com</a></p>
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Topic

Running Song Spring

More From Langston Hughes

In the spring rain, the pond and the river become one. into every life some rain must fall. usually when your car windows are down. it raineth on the just and the unjust alike, but the unjust stealeth the just's umbrella let the rain kiss you. let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. let the rain sing you a lullaby.

Let the rain kiss you. let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. let the rain sing you a lullaby.

Somebody/ anybody sing a black girl's song bring her out to know herself to know you but sing her rhythms carin/ struggle/ hard times sing her song of life she's been dead so long closed in silence so long she doesn't know the sound of her own voice her infinite beauty she's half-notes scattered without rhythm/ no tune sing her sighs sing the song of her possibilities sing a righteous gospel let her be born let her be born & handled warmly.

The song that i will sing is an old song, so old that none knows who made it. it has been handed down through generations and was taught to me when i was but a little lad. it is now my own song. it belongs to me. this is a holy song (medicine-song), and great is its power. the song tells how, as i sing, i go through the air to a holy place where yusun (the supreme being) will give me power to do wonderful things. i am surrounded by little clouds, and as i go through the air i change, becoming spirit only.

If anybody has any idea of hoarding our silver coins, let me say this. treasury has a lot of silver on hand, and it can be, and it will be used to keep the price of silver in line with its value in our present silver coin. there will be no profit in holding them out of circulation for the value of their silver content.

And what does the rain say at night in a small town, what does the rain have to say? who walks beneath dripping melancholy branches listening to the rain? who is there in the rain’s million-needled blurring splash, listening to the grave music of the rain at night, september rain, september rain, so dark and soft? who is there listening to steady level roaring rain all around, brooding and listening and waiting, in the rain-washed, rain-twinkled dark of night?

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