In that dreariest of the valleys, Strifes for evermore, and malice Without end the dalesmen vexed. Neighbour had no heart for neighbour. Never side by side to labour Went or came they unperplex'd. Cheerless were the fields and houses. Gloomily the sullen spouses Moved about the hearths and floors. Sunshine was an alms from Heaven That not one day out of seven God's bright beams brought to their doors. And 'mid discontent and anguish Every virtue seem'd to languish; Every soul groan'd with its load. Lingering in his walks beside them, Oft their friendly Pastor eyed them, And his heart with pity glow'd. "Ah!" he thought, "that looks of kindness Could but enter here! the blindness Of this life, could it but seem To them the death it is!--but listen!"-- And his eyes began to glisten: Spring was round him like a dream. "'Tis the Cuckoo!"--In the hollow Up the valley seem'd to follow Spring's fair footsteps that sweet throat. All the fields put off their sadness; Trees and hills and skies with gladness Answering to the Cuckoo's note. Then on that still Sabbath-morrow, Spake the Pastor--"Let us borrow Gladness from this new-born Spring. Hark, the bird that brings the blossoms! Brings the sunshine to our bosoms! Makes with joy the valleys ring! "Coming from afar to cheer us, Could we always keep him near us, All these heavenly skies from far, All this blessed morn discovers, All this Spring that round us hovers, Would be still what now they are! "Let us all go forth and labour, Sire, and son, and wife, and neighbour, First the bread, the life, to win: Then by yonder stream we'll rally, Build a wall across the valley, And we'll close the Cuckoo in. "So this Spring time, never failing, While it hears his music hailing From the wood and by the rill. Shall, its new born life retaining, Till our mortal hours are waning, Warm and light and cheer us still."-- Flush'd the morn; and all were ready. Sowers sowed with paces steady; Plough'd the ploughers in the field; Delved the gardeners; planters planted; Then to their great work, undaunted Forth they fared their wall to build. Stone by stone, the wall beside them Rose. Their Pastor came to guide them, Day by day, and spake to cheer; While each labouring hand the others Helped, and one and all like brothers Wrought along the ripening year. Then they gathered in their houses, Men and maidens, sires and spouses, Talking of their wall. And when Soon the long bright day returning Called them, every heart was yearning To resume its task again. And on every eve they parted At their thresholds, kindlier-hearted, Looking forth again to meet. All had something good or gladdening On their lips; the only saddening Sounds were those of parting feet.