Thomas Hardy: Weathers

Lyrics

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 Traveller's 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 rivulеts overflow And drops on gate bars hang in a row And rooks in families homеward go And so do I