THE Cuckoo's a fine bird, He sings as he flies; He brings us good tidings, He tells us no lies. He sucks little birds' eggs, To make his voice clear; And when he sings "Cuckoo!" The summer is near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ULTIMA THULE: DEDICATION by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: CARL HAMBLIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BORDER BALLAD [OR MARCH, OR SONG], FR. THE MONASTERY by WALTER SCOTT SOME EYES CONDEMN by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS EMERSON by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT FRIENDSHIP by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER CORONADO by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |