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