Have you heard the blinking toad Sing his solo by the river When April nights are soft and warm, And spring is all a-quiver? If there are jewels in his head, His wits they often muddle, -- His mate full often lays her eggs Into a drying puddle. The jewel's in his throat, I ween, And song in ample measure, For he can make the welkin ring, And do it at his leisure. At ease he sits upon the pool, And, void of fuss or trouble, Makes vesper music fit for kings From out an empty bubble: A long drawn-out and tolling cry, That drifts above the chorus Of shriller voices from the marsh That April nights send o'er us; A tender monotone of song With vernal longings blending, That rises from the ponds and pools, And seems at times unending; A linked chain of bubbling notes, When birds have ceased their calling, That lulls the ear with soothing sound Like voice of water falling. It is the knell of Winter dead; Good-by, his icy fetter. Blessings on thy warty head: No bird could do it better. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO F - (MRS. FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD) by EDGAR ALLAN POE TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT THE LAY OF ST. ODILLE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM ON A MINIATURE by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS THE SINNER by MARGARET E. BRUNER ORTIZ (1528) by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH THE COMPOSITION OF A KISS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |