"Betwixt two ridges of ploughed land sat Wat, Whose body, pressed to th’earth, lay close and squat. His nose upon his two fore-feet close lies, Glaring obliquely with his great grey eyes. His head he always sets against the wind; If turn his tail, his hairs blow up behind And make him to get cold, but he, being wise, Doth keep his coat still down, so warm he lies."