A dark old Raven lived in a tree, With a little Tree-frog for company, In the midst of a forest so thick with trees Only thin people could walk with ease. Yet though the forest was dank and dark, The little Tree-frog was gay as a lark; He piped and trilled the livelong day, While the Raven was just the other way: He grumbled and croaked from morn till night, And nothing in all the world was right. The moon was too pale, or the sun too bright; The sky was too blue, or the snow too white; The thrushes too gay, or the owls too glum; And the squirrels—well, they were too squirrelsome. And as for the trees, why did they grow In a wood, of all places?—he’d like to know. A wood is so dark and unhealthy, too, For trees; and besides, they obstruct the view. And so it went on from morn till night: The Tree-frog piping with pure delight, And the Raven croaking with all his might That nothing in all the world was right. Well, in this same wood, it chanced one day The enchanter Merlin lost his way; And stopping to rest ’neath the very tree Where the Raven and Tree-frog were taking their tea, He divined of a sudden, by magic lore, A thing I forgot to mention before: That the forest and all that therein did dwell Owed their present shape to an ancient spell. Now a spell, though a tiresome job to make, Is the easiest thing in the world to break, When once you know how to perform the trick, As Merlin did. Waving his magic stick, He cried, “Let this forest and everything in it Take its former shape!” When lo! in a minute, In place of the Raven, a stern old sage All robed in black and all bent with age; And where the little Tree-frog had been Sat a goodly youth all dressed in green; And around about was a flowery lawn Where the forest had been. Said the sage, with a yawn: “I must have been dozing—well, to resume— As I was saying, this world of gloom—” “Oh, bother the world of gloom—just hear That thrush!” cried the youth; “the first this year!” |
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