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1849–1916

THE TREE-TOAD

James Whitcomb Riley

“‘ S cur'ous-like,” said the tree-toad, “I've twittered fer rain all day; And I got up soon, And hollered tel noon —

But the sun, hit blazed away, Tell I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, Weary at hart, and sick at soul! “Dozed away fer an hour,

And I tackled the thing agin: And I sung, and sung, Tel I knowed my lung Was jest about give in;

And THEN, thinks I, ef hit do n't rain NOW, They's nothin’ in singin’, anyhow! “Onc't in a while some farmer Would come a-drivin’ past;

And he'd hear my cry, And stop and sigh — Tel I jest laid back, at last, And I hollered rain tel I thought my th'oat

Would bust wide open at ever’ note! “But I FETCHED her!— O I FETCHED her!— ‘ Cause a little while ago, As I kindo’ set,

With one eye shet, And a-singin’ soft and low, A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, A-sayin’,—‘ EF YOU'LL JEST HUSH I'LL RAIN!’”

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THE TREE-TOAD · James Whitcomb Riley · Poetry Cove