Poem of the day

When the Cuckoo Sings
by William Henry Davies (1871-1940)

In summer, when the Cuckoo sings,
   And clouds like greater moons can shine;
When every leafy tree doth hold
   A loving heart that beats with mine:
Now, when the Brook has cresses green,
   As well as stones, to check his pace;
And, if the Owl appears, he’s forced
   By small birds to some hiding-place:
Then, like red Robin in the spring,
   I shun those haunts where men are found;
My house holds little joy until
   Leaves fall and birds can make no sound;
Let none invade that wilderness
   Into whose dark green depths I go—
Save some fine lady, all in white,
   Comes like a pillar of pure snow.

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