The Queer Singers (Poem)

 

The Queer Singers

By Henry Beer

There are creatures that sing in the lowland,

I know not if they call or they sing,

They live by the rivers and marshes,

We hear them alone in the spring.

The notes are not truly melodious,

Their song we incessantly hear.

And yet, their strange tune is quite charming,

Reviving the heart with spring cheer.

I am at a loss to describe it,

'Tis plaintive, and yet 'tis not sad.

It blends with the song of the feathered,

And makes the heart cheerful and glad.

Their song sounds at times like the bleating

Of lambs far away in destress 

The chorus which they are repeating,

Is a very strange song, I confess.

Just listen when twilight is falling,

You'll hear their weird song in the air,

Their croaking, their bleating, their calling,

Is hard with aught else to compare.

'Tis the song of the frogs in the marshes,

They sing by the pools, - in moist ground.

Among the green cat tails and rushes

The home of this singer is found.

Just think how these queer little creatures

Take part and fulfill His great plan.

They join in the revel of springtime,

And sing there as well as they can.