O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice;
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee read more

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice;
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

List--'twas the cuckoo--O, with what delight
Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint,
Far read more

List--'twas the cuckoo--O, with what delight
Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint,
Far off and faint, and melting into air,
Yet not to be mistaken. Hark again!
Those louder cries give notice that the bird,
Although invisible as Echo's self,
Is wheeling hitherward.

When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
read more

When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men: for thus sings he, Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.

The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.

And, being fed by us, you used us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth read more

And, being fed by us, you used us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow--did oppress our nest; . . .

Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in read more

Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.

The Attic warbler pours her throat
Responsive to the cuckoo's note.

The Attic warbler pours her throat
Responsive to the cuckoo's note.

And now I hear its voice again,
And still its message is of peace,
It sings of read more

And now I hear its voice again,
And still its message is of peace,
It sings of love that will not cease,
For me it never sings in vain.

At land indeed
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house:
But since the cuckoo builds not read more

At land indeed
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house:
But since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou mayst.