Out walking in a sunlit wood, the speaker feels annoyed by the endlessly repeated calls of a cuckoo and a dove. The dove’s cooing sounds like it still believes love will return and make everything right, but the speaker knows better: faithful, grieving hearts are usually deceived, and the lover is likely wooing someone else in another wood. Falling blossoms may look like love notes, but he cannot take them seriously. By the end, the cuckoo’s almost laughing call pushes him forward, and he lets out a sigh—not overwhelming grief, just a brief, honest regret for something that once felt good. The mood is cynical and restless, yet full of springtime energy, as disappointment in love turns into wry acceptance rather than despair.
Sigh No More — Summary
The cuckoo and the coo-dove's ceaseless calling, Calling, Of a meaningless monotony is palling All my morning's pleasure in the sun-fleck-scattered wood. May-blossom and blue bird's-eye flowers falling, Falling In a litter through the elm-tree shade are scrawling Messages of true-love down the dust of the highroad. I do not like to hear the gentle grieving, Grieving Of the she-dove in the blossom, still believing Love will yet again return to her and make all good.
When I know that there must ever be deceiving, Deceiving Of the mournful constant heart, that while she's weaving Her woes, her lover woos and sings within another wood.
Oh, boisterous the cuckoo shouts, forestalling, Stalling A progress down the intricate enthralling By-paths where the wanton-headed flowers doff their hood.
And like a laughter leads me onward, heaving, Heaving A sigh among the shadows, thus retrieving A decent short regret for that which once was very good.