His faithful wife, sole partner of his cares, All day they ply their task; with mutual chat, But when high noon invites to short repast, ON THE DARK, STILL, DRY, WARM WEATHER. OCCASIONALLY HAPPENING IN THE WINTER MONTHS. TH' imprison'd winds slumber within their caves, All Nature nodding seems composed: thick steams, Push'd by the weightier atmosphere, up springs While high in air, and poised upon his wings, Unseen, the soft, enamour'd woodlark runs *The barometer. Through all his maze of melody; the brake, The ploughman inly smiles to see upturn The happy schoolboy brings transported forth Not so the museful sage :—abroad he walks Contemplative, if haply he may find What cause controls the tempest's rage, or whence, Amidst the savage season, Winter smiles. For days, for weeks, prevails the placid calm. At length some drops prelude a change: the sun With ray refracted, bursts the parting gloom, When all the chequer'd sky is one bright glare. Mutters the wind at eve; th' horizon round With angry aspect scowls: down rush the showers, And float the deluged paths, and miry fields. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THOMAS PENNANT, Esq. AND THE HON. DAINES BARRINGTON. |