 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
12
CUCKOO SONG.
O Kitty Bell, 'twas sweet, I swear,
To wander in the spring together,
When buds were blowing everywhere,
And it was golden weather!
And down the lanes beside the farm
You roam'd beside me, tripping lightly,—
Blushing you hung upon my arm,
And the small gloved hand press'd tightly! . . .
And the orchis sprang
In the scented meadow,
And the throstle sang
In the greenwood shadow;
And your eyes were bright
With happy dew,—
Could I doubt a light
So divinely blue,
When you kiss'd and sighed
‘I will be true’? . . .
Cuckoo!
Though far and wide
The brown bird cried—
‘Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!’
To wander in the spring together,
When buds were blowing everywhere,
And it was golden weather!
And down the lanes beside the farm
You roam'd beside me, tripping lightly,—
Blushing you hung upon my arm,
And the small gloved hand press'd tightly! . . .
And the orchis sprang
In the scented meadow,
And the throstle sang
In the greenwood shadow;
And your eyes were bright
With happy dew,—
Could I doubt a light
So divinely blue,
When you kiss'd and sighed
‘I will be true’? . . .
Cuckoo!
Though far and wide
The brown bird cried—
‘Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!’
O Kitty Bell, the cry seem'd sweet,
For you were kind, and flowers were springing;
The dusty willow in the heat
Its woolly bells were swinging,
And in its boll the linnet brown
Finish'd her nest with wool and feather,
And we had thoughts of nestling down,
In the farm by the mill, together. . . .
And over the hill
The breeze was blowing,
And the arms of the mill
Kept coming and going;
And who but Love
Was between us two,
When around and above
The flittermice flew,
And as night drew nigh,
You swore to be true? . . .
Cuckoo!
I heard the cry
From woods hard by—
‘Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!’
For you were kind, and flowers were springing;
The dusty willow in the heat
Its woolly bells were swinging,
And in its boll the linnet brown
Finish'd her nest with wool and feather,
And we had thoughts of nestling down,
In the farm by the mill, together. . . .
And over the hill
The breeze was blowing,
And the arms of the mill
Kept coming and going;
And who but Love
Was between us two,
When around and above
The flittermice flew,
And as night drew nigh,
You swore to be true? . . .
Cuckoo!
I heard the cry
From woods hard by—
‘Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!’
O Kitty Bell, 'tis spring again,
But all the face of things looks iller;
The nests are built in wood and lane,
But you are nested with the miller.
And other lovers kiss and swear,
While I behold in scorn and pity,
For ‘all,’ I cry, ‘is false and fair,’
And curse the cuckoo and Kitty. . . .
And over the hill
The breeze is blowing,
And the arms of the mill
Keep coming and going;
And the hidden bird
Is singing anew
The warning I heard
When I trusted you;
And I sicken and sigh,
With my heart thrill'd through . . .
Cuckoo!
Wherever I fly
I hear the cry—
‘Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!’
But all the face of things looks iller;
The nests are built in wood and lane,
But you are nested with the miller.
And other lovers kiss and swear,
While I behold in scorn and pity,
For ‘all,’ I cry, ‘is false and fair,’
And curse the cuckoo and Kitty. . . .
And over the hill
The breeze is blowing,
And the arms of the mill
Keep coming and going;
And the hidden bird
Is singing anew
The warning I heard
When I trusted you;
And I sicken and sigh,
With my heart thrill'd through . . .
Cuckoo!
Wherever I fly
I hear the cry—
‘Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!’
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |