THE Cuckoo's a fine bird, He sings as he flies; He brings us good tidings, He tells us no lies. He sucks little birds' eggs, To make his voice clear; And when he sings "Cuckoo!" The summer is near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADMETUS; TO MY FRIEND RALPH WALDO EMERSON by EMMA LAZARUS SURFACES AND MASKS; 4 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE JOY OF WRITING by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE SELF-SEEKER by ROBERT FROST BY THE POTOMAC by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |