O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?

How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!

The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow

The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.

Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn

Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--But how could I forget thee?

Worse than idle is compassion if it ends in tears and sighs.