 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
75
THE CUCKOO
I hear the cuckoo that I have not seen,I hear it through the green,
And through the air! Afar it stops...
All things most dear
I follow on the footprints of, I hear,
Or breathe in spices furtive from the copse.
Therefore I love the wind,
The hillsides for the echoes that they bosom,
The blossom as it drops, the dropping blossom
For the long blossom-trail it leaves behind.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |