The Song of the Toad
O fat and drowsy fellow, That croaks beside the fall, In joyful tones you sing your songs, Amidst the lily’s thrall.
Your voice is rich in echoes bright, Each note a timid breath; Yet in the moon’s embrace at night, You challenge life and death.
So croak and sing, sweet friend of mine, For nature’s heart is true; In every whisper of the wind, Lies love, born anew.
- Mary Gilmore