I don't spell it out. I jump on that bandwagon with you and keep going. Well, it was raining. It's your palette. Certainly this is a melancholy poem.
Nothing is grayer than a rainy day in the city.
Each step is gray. And notice that there is a little pun throughout the lines. I'm still not sure what curds and whey are, but I don' t care. What I'm interested in is the sound of these words, the sense that we're listening to a secret kind of language. I think it's fun to wonder about what curds and whey are.