The Frog, the Fairy, and the Moon

The Frog that loved the Changing Star Was worship’d by a Fairy, Who made for him a waistcoat trim Of silk and satin, soft and airy, Button’d with eyes of fireflies In manner military. And more to move his languid love A crimson cap she made him, According to many, plumed with antennae Of moths that rob the flowers’ honey; And with her kisses, lovers’ money, For that she gave she paid him. She fed him too, till he was blue, With endearing terms on caddis worms; And caught for him the wriggling germs Of midges; and with tender pats She wiled and woo’d him while he chew’d ’em: Till he said, ‘Bother! I love another. I love the Star I see afar, That changeth oft her fires so soft From blue to red and red to blue; And that is why I love not you. Therefore I pray you take away Your tedious arm, which does me harm Because it makes me feel too warm. But give to me my new guitar That I may sing to yonder Star.’ With that he gaped and guggled so The Fairy into fits did go; And he bounded near and bounded far, Strumming the strings of his guitar, And tried to reach the Changing Star. And all the while with his splay feet Kept time unto the music meet. With hat and waistcoat on he sprang, And as he bounded still he sang. And this the Saga says is why The Frog he always jumps so high; For, though the Star is very far, To reach it he must ever try, Until it’s time for him to die. As for the foolish Fay, ’tis wist, She wept herself into a mist, Which wanders where the Clouds are strewn About the deathbed of the Moon, When with wan lips, in sudden swoon (Because her unkind lord, the Sun, Will ever from her loveless run), She cries amid her Starry Maids: ‘Ah me, alas, my beauty fades!’— And so sinks down into the Shades.