From the high mountains the shepherds came together,
Gathered in the spring light under branching trees,
Come to sing songs, Daphnis, old Palemon,
All making ready to sing the cuckoo's praises.
Thither came Spring, girdled with a garland,
Thither came Winter, with his shaggy hair.
Great strife between them on the cuckoo's singing.

Spring. I would that he were here,

Cuckoo !

Of all winged things most dear,
To every roof the most beloved guest.
Bright-billed, good songs he sings.

Winter. Let him not come,

Cuckoo !

Stay on in the dark cavern where he sleeps,
For Hunger is the company he brings.

Spring. I would that he were here,

Cuckoo !

Gay buds come with him, and the frost is gone,
Cuckoo, the age-long comrade of the sun.
The days are longer and the light serene.

Winter. Let him not come,

Cuckoo!

For toil comes with him and he wakens wars,
Breaks blessed quiet and disturbs the world,
And sea and earth alike sets travailing.

Spring. And what are you that throw your blame on him ?
That huddle sluggish in your half-lit caves
After your feasts of Venus, bouts of Bacchus ?

Winter. Riches are mine and joy of revelling,

And sweet is sleep, the fire on the hearth stone.
Nothing of these he knows, and does his treasons.

Spring. Nay, but he brings the flowers in his bright bill,
And he brings honey, nests are built for him.
The sea is quiet for his journeying,
Young ones begotten, and the fields are green.

Winter. I like not these things which are joy to you.
I like to count the gold heaped in my chests;
And feast, and then to sleep, and then to sleep.

Spring. And who, thou slug-a-bed, got thee thy wealth?
And who would pile thee any wealth at all,
If spring and summer did not toil for thee?

Winter. Thou speakest truth; indeed they toil for me.
They are my slaves, and under my dominion.
As servants for their lord, they sweat for me.

Spring. No lord, but poor and beggarly and proud.
Thou couldst not feed thyself a single day
But for his charity who comes, who comes!
Cuckoo!


Then old Palemon spake from kis high seat,
And Daphnis, and the crowd of faithful shepherds.
" Have done, have done, Winter, spendthrift and foul,
And let the shepherd's friend, the cuckoo, come.
And may the happy buds break on our hills,
Green be our grazing, peace in the ploughed fields,
Green branches give their shadow to tired men,
The goats come to the milking, udders full,
The birds call to the sun, each one his note.
Wherefore, O cuckoo, come, O cuckoo, come !
For thou art Love himself, the dearest guest,
And all things wait thee, sea and earth and sky.
All hail, beloved : through all ages, hail !