 | English Roses |  |
CUCKOO.
Sweet cuckoo bird! Sweet cuckoo bird!
You and the spirit Joy are twain,
And I who echo you am third
With my refrain.
For in the murmur of your throat
Are wells of laughter,
And in the shadow of your coat
The shine hereafter.
That breast is bursting with the glee,
Which shakes the oaring of your wing;
You voyage over town and tree,
Embodied spring.
You and the spirit Joy are twain,
And I who echo you am third
With my refrain.
For in the murmur of your throat
Are wells of laughter,
And in the shadow of your coat
The shine hereafter.
That breast is bursting with the glee,
334
You voyage over town and tree,
Embodied spring.
Sweet cuckoo bird! Sweet cuckoo bird!
No wicked hand could wreak you wrong,
Who are the Maker's flying Word—
Incarnate Song.
You bring us with that fresher cry
A new affection,
And out of gray Eternity
Green resurrection.
Before you iron winter, hung
With crusted frost and cruel death,
Flees at the glory of your young
Diviner breath.
No wicked hand could wreak you wrong,
Who are the Maker's flying Word—
Incarnate Song.
You bring us with that fresher cry
A new affection,
And out of gray Eternity
Green resurrection.
Before you iron winter, hung
With crusted frost and cruel death,
Flees at the glory of your young
Diviner breath.
Sweet cuckoo bird! Sweet cuckoo bird!
Old continents, all broad and bright
With endless summer, grace and gird
Your verdant flight.
Right down the ages, as they roll
For you to capture
With strains that stifle their dark toll,
Rings out your rapture;
As if across the swell and sweep
Of nations while they rise and fall,
We heard arousing lands from sleep
An angel's call.
Old continents, all broad and bright
With endless summer, grace and gird
Your verdant flight.
Right down the ages, as they roll
For you to capture
With strains that stifle their dark toll,
Rings out your rapture;
As if across the swell and sweep
Of nations while they rise and fall,
We heard arousing lands from sleep
An angel's call.
Sweet cuckoo bird! Sweet cuckoo bird!
You utter what we do conceal,
And every human heart is stirr'd
By that appeal.
The heavens are bluer for your gay
Glad inspiration,
You scatter jewels on your way—
More revelation.
O happy herald, as you fly,
We see in quickening corn and clod
The marriage of the earth and sky,
And man and God.
You utter what we do conceal,
And every human heart is stirr'd
By that appeal.
The heavens are bluer for your gay
Glad inspiration,
You scatter jewels on your way—
More revelation.
O happy herald, as you fly,
We see in quickening corn and clod
335
And man and God.
| English Roses | |