Cuckoo

Rating: 5.0
May every morn be spring morn!
Coos the cuckoo at every dawn.
Yon, smell of young mango buds,
Blowing from green woods.
On the terrace corner,
A thrilling voice starts to murmur,
Awaking me from deep slumber.

I know not its theme,
Nor I know rhythm.
Still, how sweet strain!
With total ignorance of pain.
Soars she gaily in the sky,
Seldom appears in shy.
Shall I hear till I die!
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
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COMMENTS
Poetheart Morgan 06 November 2013
I'm hanging on a tree hearing the cuckoo sings no pain, no suffer just pleasure in such beauty song!
0 0 Reply
Pradip Chattopadhyay 06 November 2013
we all wish, poet, for eternal Spring! loved this poem.
1 0 Reply
Vishal Sharma 05 November 2013
lovely poem with great words and memorable lines
1 0 Reply

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