Time-Piece Poem by Jan Struther

Caught, caught is the wild cuckoo
That sang among the flowers;
They have prisoned him in a dark prison
To count them the hours.
Between the dawn and the dim evening
Twelve songs must he sing,
That men may reckon the day's passing
And the passing of Spring.
O they have shattered the soul of April
And slain the heart of May,
Because they have stolen the wild cuckoo
To tell the time of day.
And wearily sings the wild cuckoo,
Wearily sings he now,
Because his heart would cease from singing
And his throat knows not how.