The Sun Has Long Been Set
by William Wordsworth

The sun has long been set,
The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet
Among the bushes and trees;
There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,
And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would "go parading"
In London, "and masquerading,"
On such a night of June
With that beautiful soft half-moon,
And all these innocent blisses?
On such a night as this is!

How does the poet seem to feel about the sound of the birds?
He finds them distracting and annoying.
He finds them dangerous and frightening.
He finds them surprising and strange.
He finds them beautiful and sweet.