So Electra approached me the other day and told me she had put together a diary about frogs and she asked if she could post it to the Peeps. I looked it over and I approved, it seemed pretty good. I just insisted on one editorial change...she had entitled it ‘Electra Dissects Frogs’.
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Be kind and tender to the Frog,
And do not call him names,
As ‘Slimy skin,’ or ‘Polly-wog,’
Or likewise ‘Ugly James,’
Or ‘Gape-a-grin,’ or ‘Toad-gone-wrong,’
Or ‘Billy Bandy-knees’:
The Frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.
No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).
— Hilaire Belloc
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What a wonderful bird the frog are —
When he stand he sit almost;
When he hop, he fly almost;
He ain’t got no sense hardly;
He ain’t got no tail hardly either.
When he sit, he sit on what he ain’t got
almost.
— The Mexican Frog
The Frog says Aristotle liveth quietly all the time of cold weather and never stirreth abroad, until time of coite or conjunction. And then by croaking voice he allureth the Female and stirreth her to Venevie. These are Frogs called Seafrogs, of whom Tullie speaketh after this sort. They overcover themselves with sand, a knack used of them to beguile little fishes, and as they come by them, they step out and catch them and so swallow them up.
— John Maplet
A Green Forest
He was a frog and she was a frog,
And they built a house in a hollow log.
He was a fine big handsome fellow;
She was a beauty green and yellow.
He said that she was a wife most rare;
She said that he was beyond compare,
While as for their home in the hollow log,
It was just a palace, declared each frog.
And as for their baby why he
Was just a marvellous prodigy.
If he did but open his mouth and croak,
They laughed and thought it a splendid joke.
I tell you this story that you may see
How happy a frog and his wife may be.
— When All Is Young by Robert Mack
Can these, indeed, be voices that so greet
The twilight still? I seem to hear
Oboe and symbal in a rhythmic beat
With bass-drum and bassoon; their drear
And droll crescendo louder growing,
Then falling back, like waters ebbing,
flowing,—
Back to silence sweet.
--Florence Earle Coates
The Frogs
This is an open thread.
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