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Contemptuous
of his home beyond
The village and the village-pond,
A large-souled Frog who spurned each byeway
Hopped
along the imperial highway.
Nor grunting pig nor
barking dog
Could disconcert so great a Frog.
The
morning dew was lingering yet,
His sides to cool, his
tongue to wet:
The night-dew, when the night should
come,
A travelled Frog would send him home.
Not so, alas! The wayside grass
Sees him no more: not
so, alas!
A broad-wheeled waggon unawares
Ran him
down, his joys, his cares.
From dying choke one
feeble croak
The Frog's perpetual silence broke: -
"Ye buoyant Frogs, ye great and small,
Even I am
mortal after all!
My road to fame turns out a wry
way;
I perish on the hideous highway;
Oh for my
old familiar byeway!"
The choking Frog sobbed and
was gone;
The Waggoner strode whistling on.
Unconscious of the carnage done,
Whistling that
Waggoner strode on -
Whistling (it may have happened
so)
"A froggy would a-wooing go."
A hypothetic
frog trolled he,
Obtuse to a reality.
O rich
and poor, O great and small,
Such oversights beset us
all.
The mangled Frog abides incog,
The
uninteresting actual frog:
The hypothetic frog alone
Is the one frog we dwell upon.
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