Classic Poem

The seasons operate on ev'ry breast;
'Tis hence that fawns are brisk, and ladies dressed.
When on his box the nodding coachman snores,
And dreams of fancied fares; when tavern doors
The chairmen idly crowd; then ne'er refuse
To trust thy busy steps in thinner shoes.

But when the swinging signs your ears offend
With creaky noise, then rainy floods impend;
Soon shall the kennels swell with rapid streams;
And rush in muddy torrents to the Thames.
The bookseller, whose shop's an open square,
Foresees the tempest, and with early care
Of learning strips the rails; the rowing crew
To tempt a fare, clothe all their tilts in blue:
On hosiers' poles depending stockings tied
Flag with the slackened gale from side to side;
Church monuments foretell the changing air;
Then Niobe dissolves into a tear,
And sweats with secret grief: you'll hear the sounds
Of whistling winds, ere kennels break their bounds;
Ungrateful odours common shores diffuse,
And dropping vaults distil unwholesome dews
Before tiles rattle with the smoking show'r,
And spouts on heedless men their torrents pour.