W. H. Davies presents a speaker who withdraws from human company during the richest part of the year. When the cuckoo sings, leaves are full, and the brook runs green with cresses, he finds a private harmony with the living landscape—even the owl is mobbed into hiding by smaller birds. Like a robin in spring, he avoids places where people gather; his house gives him little pleasure while birds sing, and he seems to return to it only when autumn quiets the landscape. The mood is lush, guarded, and secretive. Nature is not just pretty but dense and protective. He warns others not to enter the wild green place he seeks, then makes one striking exception: a woman in white may come, appearing like pure snow. That final image suggests an idealised, almost unearthly love—someone untouched by the ordinary world he is escaping.
When the Cuckoo Sings — Summary
In summer, when the Cuckoo sings, And clouds like greater moons can shine; When every leafy tree doth hold A loving heart that beats with mine: Now, when the Brook has cresses green, As well as stones, to check his pace; And, if the Owl appears, he's forced By small birds to some hiding-place: Then, like red Robin in the spring, I shun those haunts where men are found; My house holds little joy until Leaves fall and birds can make no sound; Let none invade that wilderness Into whose dark green depths I go-- Save some fine lady, all in white, Comes like a pillar of pure snow.