Meadow Frogs

John Bannister Tabb

 Next Poem          

Ere yet the earliest warbler wakes
Of coming spring to tell,
From every marsh a chorus breaks--
A choir invisible--
As though the blossoms underground
A breath of utterance had found.

Whence comes the liquid melody?
The summer clouds can bring
No fresher music from the sky
Than here the marshes sing.
Methinks the mists about to rise
Are chanting their rain prophecies.

Next Poem 

 Back to John Bannister Tabb

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.