As I was contemplating adding words to today's picture, I came across this great little verse by James Whitcomb Riley. I don't know anything more about him except that his dates were 1852 to 1916, this comes from a piece called Wet-Weather Talk, and I'm guessing from the semi dialect that it was put into the mouth of a country character.
"It haint no use to grumble and complane
It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice;
When God sorts out the weather and sends rain,
W'y rain's my choice."