22 BIEDS AND POETS 



" blithe New-comer I I have heard, 

 I hear thee and rejoice. 

 O Cuckoo ! shall I call thee Bird, 

 Or but a wandering Voice ? 



"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. 



" Though babbling only to the Vale, 

 Of sunshine and of flowers. 

 Thou bringest unto me a tale 

 Of visionary hours. 



" Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring I 

 Even yet thou art to me 

 No bird, but an invisible thing, 

 A voice, a mystery; 



" The same whom in my scholboy 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 

 That golden time again. 



" O blessfed Bird ! the earth we pace 

 Again appears to be 

 An unsubstantial, faery place ; 

 That is fit home for thee I " 



Logan's stanzas, "To the Cuckoo," have less 

 merit both as poetry and natural history, but they 

 are older, and doubtless the later poet benefited by 



