TO THE CUCKOO

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Composed 1802.--Published 1807


[Composed in the Orchard at Town-end, 1804.--I.F.]


One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.



O blithe New-comer! I have heard,


I hear thee and rejoice.


O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,


Or but a wandering Voice? [A]


While I am lying on the grass


Thy twofold shout I hear,


From hill to hill it seems to pass,


At once far off, and near. [1]


Though babbling only to the Vale,


Of sunshine and of flowers,


Thou bringest unto me a tale [2]


Of visionary hours.


Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!


Even yet thou art to me


No bird, but an invisible thing, [3]


A voice, a mystery;


The same whom in my school-boy days


I listened to; that Cry



Which made me look a thousand ways



In bush, and tree, and sky.


To seek thee did I often rove


Through woods and on the green;


And thou wert still a hope, a love;


Still longed for, never seen.


And I can listen to thee yet;


Can lie upon the plain


And listen, till I do beget

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