poet William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

#9 on top 500 poets

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
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,
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,
A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;
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
An unsubstantial, faery place;
That is fit home for Thee!

Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001
Poem Edited: Thursday, May 17, 2001

Add this poem to MyPoemList

Rating Card

4,5 out of 5
5 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about To The Cuckoo by William Wordsworth

  • Jaturong Suebjont (9/14/2005 11:23:00 PM)

    I am a student in University in Thailand.I am now studying about Poetry.I don't understand when my teacher asks me about this poem.Who understand Please tell me clearly..

    Report Reply
    5 person liked.
    1 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: sunshine, school, spring, tree, green, hope, home, sky, flower