THE WHIP-POOR-WILL 
OONLIGHT sparkles on the 
water, 
Breezes whisper in the aspens, 
Foxes bark upon the ridges, 
Owls complain within the forest, 
Bats are flitting, crickets chirping, 
Frogs in distant sedges croaking, 
Muskrats in the weeds are splashing, 
Mists across the lake are creeping. 
From the clearing comes a message. 
Tremulous and full of motive, — 
Weird, half sorrowful, uncanny, 
Taken up by other voices, 
Echoed by the sleeping forests. 
Borne across the lake's broad bosom, 
Heard and answered by the herons, 
Heard and answered by the divers. 
