The following seems to be an imaginary address of the frogs to the snow flakes and ice in spring, when they are weary of being imprisoned, and long to burst their bonds, and commence their rejoicings, for the return of the warm sun and the sweet breath of spring.
They are interesting only as specimens of Indian imagination and poetry:
SONG OF THE OKOGISS, OR FROGS, IN SPRING.
See how the white spirit presses—
Presses us—presses us, heavy and long;
Presses us down to the frost-bitten earth;
Alas! ye are heavy, ye spirits so white;
Alas! you are cold—you are cold, you are cold.
Ah! cease shining spirits that fell from the skies;
Ah! cease to crush us and keep us in dread;