Weathers

This is the weather the cuckoo likes,

And so do I;

When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,

And nestling 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 thresh, and ply;

And citizens hill- hid tides throb, throe on throe,

And meadow 0rivulets overflow,

And drops on gate bars hang on a row,

And rooks in families homeward go,

And so do I.