Foliage: Various Poems

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—

       Comes like a pillar of pure snow.