The Singing Garden

The Pallid Cuckoo

C.J. Dennis

DOLEFULLY and drearily
    Come I with the spring;
Wearily and eerily
    My threnody I sing.
Hear my drear, discordant note
Sobbing, sobbing in my throat,
Weaving, wailing thro’ the wattles
    Where the builders are a-wing.

Outcast and ostracized,
    Miserable me!
By the feathered world despised,
    Chased from tree to tree.
Nought to do the summer thro’,
My woeful weird a dree;
Singing, “Pity, ah, pity,
    Miserable me!”

I’m the menace and the warning,
    Loafing, labour-shy.
In the harmony of morning
    Out of tune am I—
Out of tune and out of work,
Meanly ’mid the leaves I lurk,
Fretfully to sing my sorrow,
    Furtively to spy.

Outcast and desolate,
    Miserable me!
Earning ever scorn and hate
    For my treachery.
Shiftless drone, I grieve alone,
To a mournful key
Singing, “Sorrow, ah, sorrow!
    Miserable me!”

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