The Cuckoo.
LLAST night a vision was dispelled,Which I can never dream again;A wonder from the earth has gone,A passion from my brain.I saw upon a budding ashA cuckoo, and she blithely sungTo all the valleys round about,While on a branch she swung.Cuckoo, cuckoo! I looked around,And like a dream fulfilled,A slender bird of modest brown,My sight with wonder thrilled.I looked again and yet again;My eyes, thought I, do sure deceive me,But when belief made doubting vain,Alas, the sight did grieve me.For twice to-day I heard the cry,The hollow cry of melting love;And twice a tear bedimmed my eye—Isawthe singer in the grove,I saw him pipe his eager tone,Like any other common bird,And, as I live, the sovereign cryWas not the one I always heard.O why within that lusty woodDid I the fairy sight behold?O why within that solitudeWas I thus blindly overbold?My heart, forgive me! for indeedI cannot speak my thrilling pain:The wonder vanished from the earth,The passion from my brain.
LLAST night a vision was dispelled,Which I can never dream again;A wonder from the earth has gone,A passion from my brain.I saw upon a budding ashA cuckoo, and she blithely sungTo all the valleys round about,While on a branch she swung.Cuckoo, cuckoo! I looked around,And like a dream fulfilled,A slender bird of modest brown,My sight with wonder thrilled.I looked again and yet again;My eyes, thought I, do sure deceive me,But when belief made doubting vain,Alas, the sight did grieve me.For twice to-day I heard the cry,The hollow cry of melting love;And twice a tear bedimmed my eye—Isawthe singer in the grove,I saw him pipe his eager tone,Like any other common bird,And, as I live, the sovereign cryWas not the one I always heard.O why within that lusty woodDid I the fairy sight behold?O why within that solitudeWas I thus blindly overbold?My heart, forgive me! for indeedI cannot speak my thrilling pain:The wonder vanished from the earth,The passion from my brain.
LLAST night a vision was dispelled,Which I can never dream again;A wonder from the earth has gone,A passion from my brain.I saw upon a budding ashA cuckoo, and she blithely sungTo all the valleys round about,While on a branch she swung.Cuckoo, cuckoo! I looked around,And like a dream fulfilled,A slender bird of modest brown,My sight with wonder thrilled.I looked again and yet again;My eyes, thought I, do sure deceive me,But when belief made doubting vain,Alas, the sight did grieve me.For twice to-day I heard the cry,The hollow cry of melting love;And twice a tear bedimmed my eye—Isawthe singer in the grove,I saw him pipe his eager tone,Like any other common bird,And, as I live, the sovereign cryWas not the one I always heard.
L
O why within that lusty woodDid I the fairy sight behold?O why within that solitudeWas I thus blindly overbold?My heart, forgive me! for indeedI cannot speak my thrilling pain:The wonder vanished from the earth,The passion from my brain.