Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
W. Wordsworth
CCXLIII. To the Cuckoo
O BLITHE new-comer! I have heard, 
  I hear thee and rejoice. 
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, 
  Or but a wandering Voice? 
While I am lying on the grass         5
  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,  10
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,  15
  A voice, a mystery; 
The same whom in my schoolboy days 
  I listen'd to; that Cry 
Which made me look a thousand ways 
  In bush, and tree, and sky.  20
To seek thee did I often rove 
  Through woods and on the green; 
And thou wert still a hope, a love— 
  Still long'd for, never seen! 
And I can listen to thee yet;  25
  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  30
An unsubstantial, faery place, 
  That is fit home for thee! 

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