It's gloomy, dark,
Clouds all marked,
With windy hustle,
And thundery bustle.

The sky turned pale,
Fragranced with ester-y smell,
And in the watery dale,
Paper boats set sail.

The weather is wet,
But not a slightest hate,
Wrapped in a blanket so warm,
Safe from the storm's harm.

The lightning sparks,
Unlade sky of larks,
While rustling leaves,
Whisper an important eve.

All signs of an advent plain,
Welcome the drizzling rain,
Nature is so happy about,
After all, it's raining out.