Cuckoos.

When coltsfoot withers and begins to wear
Long silver locks instead of golden hair,
And fat red catkins from black poplars fall
And on the ground like caterpillars crawl,
And bracken lifts up slender arms and wrists
And stretches them, unfolding sleepy fists,
The Cuckoos in a few well-chosen words
Tell they give Easter eggs to the small birds.
Andrew Young.