.To the Cuckoo ©

  Composed by E. Mirvis; Poetry by  W. Wordsworth
  Performed by Mirvis A. & Hodgetts B.

To the Cuckoo
O blithe New-comer! I have heard, --Cu-ckoo, Cu-ckoo
I hear thee and rejoice. --Cu-ckoo, Cu-ckoo
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, --Cu-ckoo, Cu-ckoo
Or but a wandering Voice? --Cu-ckoo, Cu-ckoo
While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off, and near.

Though babbling only to the Vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.
Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery;
The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.
O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place;
That is fit home for Thee!