Poems (Prescott)/The Oaten Pipe
THE OATEN PIPE
When the musical, piping frogs Begin to croak and chant,In the marshes and in the bogs, In many a sweet spring haunt:
I think of the legend, hoary, Which little Dutch folk recite,—How the nightingale's soul, says the story, Enters a frog in its flight.
And so when I hear the weird catch, Where the frogs alone take part, I fancy I sometimes snatch A strain from the nightingale's heart.