Frog and cricket in the mosses,—
Confound your gasconading!
Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis;—
Most tuneful serenading!
THE KNOWING ONES
Sans souci, so this host we greet,
Their jovial humor showing;
There's now no walking on our feet,
So on our heads we're going.
THE AWKWARD ONES
In seasons past we snatch'd, 'tis true,
Some tit-bits by our cunning;
Our shoes, alas, are now danced through,
On our bare soles we're running.
WILL-O'-THE-WISPS
From marshy bogs we sprang to light,
Yet here behold us dancing;
The gayest gallants of the night,
In glitt'ring rows advancing.
SHOOTING STAR
With rapid motion from on high,
I shot in starry splendor;
Now prostrate on the grass I lie;—
Who aid will kindly render?