The Ducks and Frogs, A Tale of the Bogs
It chanced upon a certain day, When cheerful Summer, bright and gay, Had brought once more her gift of flowers, To dress anew her pleasant bowers; When birds and insects on the wing Made all the air with music ring; When sunshine smiled on dell and knoll, Two Ducks set forth to take a stroll. ‘Twas morning; and each grassy bank Of cooling dew had deeply drank– Each fair young flower was holding up Its sweet and freshly painted cup, Filled with bright dew drops, every one; Gay, sparkling treasures for the sun, Who bears them lightly to the sky, Holds them as vapor far on high, Till with his rays in dazzling tints, The rainbow on the cloud he paints. But our two Ducks we’ll not forget, They were not troubled by the wet; They rambled on, and soon they took The path that led them to a brook,
