Because he knows there’s nothing new;
He will not cease nor will explain
The age-old notes of his refrain.
The cuckoo bird, he sheds no tears,
He is unvexed by human years;
He sings amidst the month of May
Until the final Judgement Day.
We briefly wake, we briefly dream,
Till borne off by the rushing stream;
Before we know what has been known,
We meet new lovers fully grown.