catching up the cigarette butts and sweets papers , rivuleting along the cracks in pavements , smearing smooth glass windows which appear to melt and cry , and the faces behind each closed casement appear pallid , sallow , weary with a sweet sadness that dreams of yesteryear , of steaming classroom radiators when the rain laughed , before whenever it was that you stopped being able to laugh so freely , before the rain became a lament , and wept .