Cuckoo Songs

give them no sweet son or daughter, THE WOOD-DOVE 5 She was dreamy with pleasure for her true love beside her, And the day shone as fair as though young leaves did hide her. O Love, moaned the wood-dove, the sweet voice of Summer, 'Twere death, it were madness, were my love a roamer. But Love, true and faithful, what power has cold weather To still our sweet songs, Love, since we are together ? Then I to my true love, true love is enough, Love, And how wise is the wood-dove who learns that lore off, Love; 'Tis our charm for the winter, when wintry winds cry, Love, And when in the grave on your heart I shall lie, Love. The Story of Blessed Columba and the Horse /OLUMBA was kept back Four years from his reward, The brethren's prayers, alack, Prevailing with the Lord. ' O Children, let me go!' 'Twas oft and oft he prayed, Yet still with prayer aglow They held him from the dead. They held him back with might, Kissing his habit's hem, His soul's wings set for flight Were prisoned long by them. BLESSED COLUMBA AND THE HORSE 27 His soul was sick for death; Yea, anguished long and dumb To take the lonely path Should lead the exile home. At last one Autumn day When woods were red and gold, And the sea moaned alway For summers dead and cold, Columba, weary foot, Went out and saw the sheaves, And flames of yellow fruit Trembling among the leaves. He saw the sheep...