The Cuckoo

The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight,

With narrow pointed wings

Whews o'er our heads - soon out of sight

And as she flies she sings:

And darting down the hedgerow side

She scares the little bird

Who leaves the nest it cannot hide

While plaintive notes are heard.

I've watched it on an old oak tree

Sing half an hour away

Until its quick eye noticed me

And then it whewed away.

Its mouth when open shone as red

As hips upon the brier,

Like stock doves seemed its winged head

But striving to get higher

It heard me rustle and above leaves

Soon did its flight pursue,

Still waking summer's melodies

And singing as it flew.

So quick it flies from wood to wood

'Tis miles off 'ere you think it gone;

I've thought when I have listening stood

Full twenty sang - when only one.

When summer from the forest starts

Its melody with silence lies,

And, like a bird from foreign parts,

It cannot sing for all it tries.

'Cuck cuck' it cries and mocking boys

Crie 'Cuck' and then it stutters more

Till quick forgot its own sweet voice

It seems to know itself no more.