Classic Poem

The Dust flies smothering, as on clatt'ring Wheels
Loath'd Aristocracy careers along;
The distant Track quick vibrates to the Eye,
And white and dazzling undulates with heat.
Where scorching to th' unwary Traveller's touch
The stone-fence flings its narrow Slip of Shade,
Or where the worn sides of the chalky Road
Yield their scant excavations (sultry Grots!)
Emblem of languid Patience, we behold
The fleecy Files faint-ruminating lie.