HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove! <br /> Thou messenger of Spring! <br />Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, <br /> And woods thy welcome ring. <br /> <br />What time the daisy decks the green, <br /> Thy certain voice we hear: <br />Hast thou a star to guide thy path, <br /> Or mark the rolling year? <br /> <br />Delightful visitant! with thee <br /> I hail the time of flowers, <br />And hear the sound of music sweet <br /> From birds among the bowers. <br /> <br />The schoolboy, wand'ring through the wood <br /> To pull the primrose gay, <br />Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, <br /> And imitates thy lay. <br /> <br />What time the pea puts on the bloom, <br /> Thou fli'st thy vocal vale, <br />An annual guest in other lands, <br /> Another Spring to hail. <br /> <br />Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, <br /> Thy sky is ever clear; <br />Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, <br /> No Winter in thy year! <br /> <br />O could I fly, I'd fly with thee! <br /> We'd make, with joyful wing, <br />Our annual visit o'er the globe, <br /> Companions of the Spring.<br /><br />John Logan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-cuckoo-2/
