A bright spring landscape unfolds: pied daisies, blue violets, silver-white lady-smocks, and golden cuckoo-buds paint the meadows. Everything feels cheerful and alive—shepherds pipe on oat straws, larks sing like clocks for ploughmen, turtle doves mate, and maidens bleach their summer smocks outdoors. Then the cuckoo’s call intrudes. On every tree, the bird seems to sing “cuckoo,” a sound that, to a married man, sounds ominously like “cuckold.” The word is one of fear, unpleasing to a married ear. Beneath the song’s playful surface, there’s a teasing, half-serious sting. The speaker delights in the season’s beauty but also seems to relish the joke, as if spring itself mocks husbands with the threat of infidelity. The overall mood is sunlit and witty, yet edged with a faint, wry unease.
Spring and Winter i — Summary
WHEN daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!--O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!--O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!