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. 
