Spring—Cuckoo

The Bee is humming in the Sun,
The yellow Cowslip springs;
And hark! from yonder Woodland's side
Again the Cuckoo sings!

"Cuckoo,—Cuckoo!" no other note,
She sings, from day to day,
But I, though a poor Cottage Girl,
Can work, and read, and pray.

And whilst in knowledge I rejoice,
Which heavenly truth displays,
Oh! let me still employ my voice,
In my Redeemer's praise.