SPRING PEEPERS. 



Sweet sounds are now breaking the long winter silence 



Like tiny bells ringing so liquidly clear. 

 I heard the first note where the soft pussy willows 



Were airing their gray furs above the pool near. 

 How spring-like it sounded, half plaintive, yet cheering; 

 And hinting of blossoms and mellow bird songs, 

 Of Maytimc soon coming, 

 With tawny bees humming. 

 For to the first peeper spring's keynote belongs. 



The fresh pungent night air of budding young April 



Seems throbbing and pulsing in musical haze. 

 On soft winds the voices are coming, then going, 



O'er brown bogg}- marshlands and willow fringed bays. 

 How high pitched 3.nd shrill rings the piccolo chorus, 

 Sustained by the sucker toad's heavy trombone. 

 Now rising, then falling. 

 In silver tones calling 

 From tussock to tussock, that Winter has flown. 



When comes a spring shower, with swift, coaxing murmur; 



How suddenly silence falls over the throng : 

 Till up from a single throat leaps a clear jingle note ; 



Then, as if raindrops had turned into song, 

 The whole air is teeming with fifings and flutings 

 And little bells mingle with musical clacks, 

 As though they made merry. 

 And felt happy, very, 

 With April showers patting their olive brown backs. 



The skunk cabbage flower, with hood like a friar, 



Comes up from earth's cloister to view his old place. 

 No one can see just how this frog-music suits him, 



He wears his dark cowl so far over his face. 

 But cat-tails and rushes and dark alder bushes 

 Are thinking of putting on green clothes again. 

 Hail, little spring peeper : 

 No music is cheaper 

 Nor sweeter than yours is, when spring decks the plain. 



— Belle A. Hitchcock. 



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