Poems (Prescott)/The Oaten Pipe

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THE OATEN PIPE
When the musical, piping frogs  Begin to croak and chant,In the marshes and in the bogs, In many a sweet spring haunt:
I think of the legend, hoary, Which little Dutch folk recite,—How the nightingale's soul, says the story, Enters a frog in its flight.
And so when I hear the weird catch, Where the frogs alone take part, I fancy I sometimes snatch  A strain from the nightingale's heart.
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