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

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

While I deduce, From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, The symphony of spring.

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.

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 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!