At first koocoo, koocoo, sing still can she do;
At last kooke, kooke, kooke, six kookes to one coo.
John Heywood, 1587.
ODE TO THE CUCKOO.
Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of Spring!
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat
And woods thy welcome sing.
What time the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?
Michael Bruce.
"Cuckoo! cuckoo!" The first we've heard!
"Cuckoo! cuckoo!" God bless the bird
Scarce time to take his breath,
And now "Cuckoo!" he saith.
Cuckoo! cuckoo! three cheers!
And let the welkin ring!
He has not folded wing
Since last he saw Algiers.
T. E. Brown.