The cows move lowing to scant shade;
Jess lays aside the half-worked smock,
Dan, in his ditch, lets fall the spade.
Now swoops the outrageous hurricane
With lightning in steep pitchfork jags;
The blanched hill leaps in sheeted rain,
Sea masses white to assault the crags.
Such menace tottering overhead,
Old Jess for ague scolds no more;