"Brother, what's that bird tolling yonder?" "Why, Jasper, that's a cuckoo." "He's a roguish chaffing sort of bird, isn't he, brother?" "He is, Jasper." "But you rather like him, brother?... well, brother, and what's a gipsy?"—@3The Romany Rye.@1 TELL me, brother, what's a cuckoo, but a roguish chaffing bird? Not a nest's his own, no bough-rest's his own, and he's never man's good word, But his call is musical and rings pleasant on the ear. And the spring would scarce be spring If the cuckoo did not sing In the leafy months o' the year. Tell me, brother, what's a gipsy, but a roguish chaffing chap? Not a cot's his own, not a man would groan For a gipsy's worst mishap, But his tent looks quaint when bent On the sidesward of a lane, And you'd deem the rain more dreary And the long white road more weary If we never came again. Would your May days seem more fair Were we chals deep read in books, Were we cuckoos cawing rooks, All the world cathedral closes, Where the very sunlight dozes Were the sounds all organ pealing, psalm and song and prayer? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS INGENIOUS FRIEND, MR. N. TATE by PHILIP AYRES EPITAPH ON TWO YOUNG MEN NAMED LEITCH IN CROSSING THE RIVER SOUTHESK by JAMES BEATTIE EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION by ROBERT BURNS WORDS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS by WITTER BYNNER THE BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO by KINAHAN CORNWALLIS |