human
Call thou on, O golden cuckoo, Sing thou still, O bird of silver, Sing thou from thy breast of silver! Tell me true, O Saxon strawberry, Shall I long remain unhooded, Long among the flocks as herd-girl, On the wide-extending heathlands, And the far-extending woodlands, For one summer, for two summers, Or for five or six of summers, 70 Or perchance for ten long summers, Or the time fulfilled already?