Who is it hideth up in a tree
Where all but the bats asleep should be,
And with his whistling mocketh me?
Such quaint, quick pipings—two-and-two:
Half a whistle, half a coo—
Ah, Mister Tree-Frog! gare-à-vous!
The owls on noiseless wing gloom by,—
Beware, lest one a glimpse espy
Of your grey coat and jewelled eye!
And so, good-night!—We glide anew