Cuckoo, cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo! In April skies were blue In April skies were blue As every hedgerow knew; As every hedgerow knew; And there was you. And there was you. In April In April The cuckoo shows his bill, The cuckoo shows his bill, With windflowers on vale and hill. With windflowers on vale and hill. O, Love! O, Love! Sweet was April, sweet was April! Sweet was April, sweet was April! Cuckoo, cuckoo! In May his song was true, Cuckoo, cuckoo! And the world was new In May his song was true, For me and you. And the world was new In May For me and you. He sings all day, In May All the long night that's sweet with hay. He sings all day, O, Love! All the long night that's sweet with hay. Blithe was the May, blithe was the May! O, Love! Cuckoo, cuckoo! Blithe was the May, blithe was the May! Last June the roses grew In many a place we knew, I and you. Cuckoo, cuckoo! In June Last June the roses grew He changes his tune. In many a place we knew, A young man's fancy changes soon. I and you. O, Love! In June Fleet was June, fleet was June! He changes his tune. Cuckoo, cuckoo! A young man's fancy changes soon. His notes are faint and few, O, Love! The lily is dying too, Fleet was June, fleet was June! For the rose there is rue. In July Away will he fly, Cuckoo, cuckoo! His notes blown back from an empty sky. His notes are faint and few, O, Love! The lily is dying too, Sad was July, sad was July! For the rose there is rue. Cuckoo, cuckoo! In July No more we listen to Away will he fly, The merry song we knew, His notes blown back from an empty sky. I and you. O, Love! In August Sad was July, sad was July! Go he must, Love and lovers will turn to dust. O, Love! Cuckoo, cuckoo! Cold is August, cold is August! No more we listen to The merry song we knew, I and you. In August Go he must, Love and lovers will turn to dust. O, Love! Cold is August, cold is August! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A COURT LADY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER by THOMAS CAMPBELL ONE POET VISITS ANOTHER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES POOR [OR, COCK] ROBIN by MOTHER GOOSE TO - (3) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |