The Village and The Newspaper

by George Crabbe

Fear’d for their force, and courted for their crimes.

Chief to the prosperous side the numbers sail,

Fickle and false, they veer with every gale;

As birds that migrate from a freezing shore

In search of warmer climes, come skimming o’er,

Some bold adventurers first prepare to try

The doubtful sunshine of the distant sky;

But soon the growing Summer’s certain sun

Wins more and more, till all at last are won:

So, on the early prospect of disgrace,