The Poetry Corner

Weathers

By Thomas Hardy

I 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. II 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.