 | Berries & Blossoms |  |
TURNCOATS.
Said a little black Tadpole to another,That happen'd to be his elder brother,
“Pray, what strange creature is that I hear
Croaking so loud?” “A Frog, my dear,”
Said the brother, “and there he sits.” “I ne'er
Saw an uglier monster, I declare,”
Cried little Taddy, wriggling his tail,
In an offhand fashion, that could not fail
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And satisfaction, no words can measure,
To think that we are so smooth and slim,
So handsome, so . . very unlike him.”
“To be sure,” said the brother, bobbing and blinking,
“To be sure, I'm just of your way of thinking.”
The air was mild, and the sun was strong,
The Tadpoles were turn'd to Frogs, ere long;
The little one croak'd, the big one croak'd.
At last, said the younger, “Of course, we . . . . joked
That day, in the ditch; for there's no denying,
And in fact it's a truth past all replying,
That whether in mere, or marsh, or bog,
The handsomest creature, by far, is a frog.”
“To be sure,” said the brother, bobbing and blinking,
“To be sure, I'm just of your way of thinking.”
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