This is the weather the cuckoo likes, <br />And so do I; <br />When showers betumble the chestnut spikes, <br />And nestlings fly; <br />And the little brown nightingale bills his best, <br />And they sit outside at 'The Traveller's Rest,' <br />And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest, <br />And citizens dream of the south and west, <br />And so do I. <br /> <br />This is the weather the shepherd shuns, <br />And so do I; <br />When beeches drip in browns and duns, <br />And thresh and ply; <br />And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe, <br />And meadow rivulets overflow, <br />And drops on gate bars hang in a row, <br />And rooks in families homeward go, <br />And so do I.<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weathers/
