That’s his name Wordsworth;
Each line of his – gold in worth.
Every reader will rejoice,
At this simple natural choice!
It is his greatness of course;
To make a poetic source,
Of a cuckoo – a common bird,
In its sublimes I have ever heard.
His profound love for nature;
The poetic definition of its stature,
All mixed perfectly in a blend,
To celebrate it would never end.
To me it opened the door,
To a new world a floor,
That a cuckoo – the spring singer,
Can be a subject to linger.
For me seeing the nature so keen,
To laud the creator to be seen,
Those lines of his proved that
A poem can be written on a black cat.
Yet to see, what other cant;
And try if you want.
That’s the secret of the great poet
(Circa – 1995 post reading the poem To the Cuckoo )