Stray Leaves from a Border Garden 
Colombin, and mother wer 
Than ani man mai bethenke, 
It berth erbes of other maner 
Than ani in erth groweth here, 
Tho that is lest of priis ; 
Evermore that grene springeth, 
For winter no somer it no clingeth, 
And sweeter than licorice. 
(From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, by Sir W. Scott.) 
July 8. — I heard the Cuckoo this morning calling several 
times. It is only the second time I have heard him 
this year ; he is rather a rare visitor about here, and does 
not stay long, going farther north. I believe he is more 
often heard on the heights of the Lammermoors. The 
Japanese and the Finns both look upon the Cuckoo as a 
sad bird. With the Finns he is a sacred bird, and is 
associated with misfortune, and in particular with unhappy 
lovers. The following is rather a curious little extract from 
John O’Mahony’s translation of the “ Kalevala,” the sacred 
book of the Finns : 
When I hear the cuckoo calling, 
Then my heart is filled vvith sorrow, 
Tears unlock my heavy eyelids, 
Flow adown my furrowed visage, 
Tears as large as silver sea pearls. 
Older grow my wearied elbows, 
Weaker fall my aged fingers, 
Wearily in all my members 
Does my body shake in palsy, 
When I hear the cuckoo singing, 
Hear the sacred cuckoo calling. 
The Japanese also think of the Cuckoo in connection 
with unhappy lovers. A poet named Akahito, who lived 
in the eighth century, wrote a poem on Spring and the 
Cuckoo, which appears prettily translated in Aston’s 
delightful book on Japanese literature. To me the 
Cuckoo’s call is such a cheerful sound, the “ Messengere of 
Spring,” as Spencer calls him. I think Mahomet must 
have been partial to the Cuckoo, for it is one of the selected 
ten creatures, he told his followers, were permitted to enter 
200 
