Weathers, by Thomas Hardy
Weathers, by Thomas Hardy
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 rivulets overflow,
And drops on gate bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward go,
And so do I.
— Thomas Hardy
This poem was by one of my grandad’s favourite poets, and he helped his daughters (my mum and auntie) learn it by heart before he died. I loved his ability to recite poetry that he had read (and he was incredibly well-read!) and have been inspired to learn some poems for myself – this was at the top of my list.
As well as Roger, this poem makes me think of Autumn walks around East Anglia with my family, watching the mist and dew give way to cold sunlight as we visited and revisited the Stour Valley (Constable Country!), or the peninsula around the Essex-Suffolk border, with the Orwell bridge occasionally in the distance.
Featured Image: Roger, Stella, and Helen out on a family walk near Flatford, just uphill from the River Stour. I think this was a bit of land the National Trust had just purchased back – they run a residential centre in and around the old mill and cottage where Constable painted his famous Hay Wain.
TJC 
What a beautiful and moving choice and commentary. Thank you for the memories of Grandad R today: the photo, the choice of poem and his phenomenal memory for poetry! And all the walking, of course…
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