Weathers

THIS is the weather the cuckoo likes,And so do I;When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,And nestlings fly:And the little brown nightingale bills his best,And they sit outside at "The Travellers' Rest,"And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,And citizens dream of the south and west,And so do I.

This is the weather the shepherd shuns,And so do I;When beeches drip in browns and duns,And thresh, and ply;

And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,And meadow rivulets overflow,And drops on gate-bars hang in a row,And rooks in families homeward go,And so do I.