W. H. Davies Song Cycle

Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad,
Beyond the town, where wild flow'rs grow --
A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord,
How rich and great the times are now!
Know all ye sheep
And cows, that keep
On staring that I stand so long
In grass that's wet from heavy rain --
A rainbow, and a cuckoo's song
May never come together again,
May never [come]1
This side the tomb.
A rainbow, and a cuckoo's song
May never come together again...

Thou comest, May, with leaves and flowers, 
And nights grow short, and days grow long 
And for thy sake in bush and tree, 
The small birds sing, both old and young ; 
And only I am dumb and wait 
The passing of a fish-like state. 
You birds, you old grandfathers now, 
That have such power to welcome spring, 
I, but a father in my years, 
Have nothing in my mind to sing ; 
My lips, like gills in deep-sea homes, 
Beat time, and still no music comes.

Oh, happy wind, how sweet
Thy life must be!
The great, proud fields of gold
Run after thee:
And here are flowers, with heads
To nod and shake;
And dreaming butterflies
To tease and wake.
Oh, happy wind, I say,
To be alive this day.

What happy mortal sees that mountain now,
The white cascade that's shining on its brow;

The white cascade that's both a bird and star,
That has a ten-mile voice and shines as far?

Though I may never leave this land again,
Yet every spring my mind must cross the main

To hear and see that water-bird and star
That on the mountain sings, and shines so far.