I guess I was feeling kind of depressed as a senior in high school, because the main lines I recall from Robert Louis Stevenson on RAIN are not those scattered over Google, but the following:
I am like one who has sat alone
all day on a level plain
with drooping head and trailing arms
in a ceaseless pour of rain.
I discovered that, unlike me, he didn’t stay depressed, but went on to his last verse:
And the purple fringes of the rain
Rose o’er the scarlet west,
And the birds sang in the soddened furze,
And my heart sang in my breast.