Poem for July

                         Weathers  

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 ‘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. 

 

Thomas Hardy

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