Like chidden children droop among the bowers.
Oft like a moorhen scuttling to the reeds,
The cricket-ball sped o'er the plashy meads,
And rainbow-blended blazers shrank and ran
When showers, in mockery of his moist needs,
Half-drown'd the water-loving river man.
What woman's rights have crazed thee?
Would'st thou be
A Winter Amazon, more fierce than he?
Can Summer birds thy shrew-heroics sing?