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 school-boy, wandering 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/ode-to-the-cuckoo/
