Pudgy paths

O for a pleasant book to cheat the sway 
Of winter—where rich mirth with hearty laugh 
Listens & rubs his legs on corner seat 
For fields are mire & sludge—& badly off 
Are those who on their pudgy paths delay 
There striding shepherd seeking driest way 
Fearing nights wetshod feet & hacking cough 
That keeps him waken till the peep of day 
Goes shouldering onward & with ready hook 
Progs off to ford the sloughs that nearly meet 
Accross the lands—croodling & thin to view 
His loath dog follows—stops & quakes & looks

For better roads—till whistled to pursue 
Then on with frequent jump he hirkles through

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