The Cuckoo

The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight,

With narrow pointed

Whews o'er our heads - soon out of

And as she flies she sings:

And darting down the hedgerow

She scares the little

Who leaves the nest it cannot

While plaintive notes are heard.

I've watched it on an old oak

Sing half an hour

Until its quick eye noticed

And then it whewed away.

Its mouth when open shone as

As hips upon the brier,

Like stock doves seemed its winged

But striving to get higher It heard me rustle and above

Soon did its flight pursue,

Still waking summer's

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

Full twenty sang - when only one.

When summer from the forest

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

Crie 'Cuck' and then it stutters

Till quick forgot its own sweet

It seems to know itself no more.