A SONG OF THE NIGHT 47 



Soon these varied callers will leave the ponds and 

 nature's warmth will hatch their jelly-covered eggs 

 into black, wriggling multitudes of Polly-wogs. 

 These will in turn discard their gills for lungs and 

 their tails for legs, and will be prepared to settle 

 into the oozy mud for the long sleep of winter. Now, 

 from the moonlit, weedy pond, they invite the world 

 to share in the joy of emancipation. 



