When The Cuckoo Sings

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.