I read this one a few days ago. I think it’s appropriate for a day such as this.

A pity beyond all telling

Is hid in the heart of love:

The folk who are buying and selling,

The clouds on their journey above,

The cold wet winds ever blowing,

And the shadowy hazel grove

Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,

Threaten the head that I love.

             –The Pity of Love  by W.B. Yeats