The night was warm, the pool was still, / No sound was heard from lake or hill, / Save where, upon a log decayed, / A bull-frog croaked his serenade: / Wake, frogess of my love, awake, / And listen to my song; / The heron roosts far from the lake, / The pickerel his rest doth take / The water-weeds among. // The sun has put his fire out, / The daylight’s hardly seen, / No enemy is round about; / Then frogess poke thy lovely snout / Above the waters green.