COME, if thou'rt cold to Summer's charms, Her clouds of green, her starry flowers, And let this bird, this wandering bird, Make his fine wonder yours; He, hiding in the leaves so green, When sampling this fair world of ours, Cries Cuckoo, clear; and like Lot's wife, I look, though it should cost my life. When I can hear that charmed one's voice, I taste of immortality; My joy's so great that on my heart Doth lie eternity, As light as any little flower -- So strong a wonder works in me; Cuckoo! he cries, and fills my soul With all that's rich and beautiful. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW OEDIPUS AT COLONUS: OLD AGE by SOPHOCLES TRAVEL by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ON THE FALL OF ZALONA by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE NORTH SEA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON MONITOR by MAYME BAKER CUNNINGHAM |