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 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. 
 Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
 We'd make, with joyful wing,
  Our annual visit o'er read more 
 Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
 We'd make, with joyful wing,
  Our annual visit o'er the globe,
   Companions of the spring. 
 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. 
 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. 
 While I deduce,
 From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
  The symphony of spring.  
 While I deduce,
 From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
  The symphony of spring. 
 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; . . . 
 The Attic warbler pours her throat
 Responsive to the cuckoo's note.  
 The Attic warbler pours her throat
 Responsive to the cuckoo's note. 
 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!