Near to the valley stands my humble cot,
The village nestles 'neath the cooling shade
Of lofty timber; but the silent glade
Not yet re-echoes with the cuckoo's note.

The morning hour e'er finds me, sweetest bird!
Before my gate; and, when the day doth pale,
I cast a wistful glance adown the vale;—
But e'en one note, alas! not yet is heard.