The Tree-Toad
A TINY bell the tree-toad has,
I wonder if he knows
The charm it is to hear him
Ringing as he goes.
He can't have gone the journeys
He tells me to go on,
Here in the darkness
Of the cool, cropped lawn.
He cannot know the thrill
Of the soft spring wind,
Or the wonder, when you walk,
What will come behind.
He hasn't seen the places
I'd break my heart to win,
Nor heard the city calling
When the cold comes in.
He sings away contented
And doesn't leave his tree,
But he sets my blood a-going
Where his song will never be.
I wonder if he knows
The charm it is to hear him
Ringing as he goes.
He can't have gone the journeys
He tells me to go on,
Here in the darkness
Of the cool, cropped lawn.
He cannot know the thrill
Of the soft spring wind,
Or the wonder, when you walk,
What will come behind.
He hasn't seen the places
I'd break my heart to win,
Nor heard the city calling
When the cold comes in.
He sings away contented
And doesn't leave his tree,
But he sets my blood a-going
Where his song will never be.
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