Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/359

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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 loud note smites my ear!—

From hill to hill it seems to pass,

At once far off and near!

I hear thee babbling to the Vale

Of sunshine and of flowers;

And unto me thou bring'st 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.