I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW.

When in budding trees Bluebirds sweetly sing, And the pretty early flowers Come to welcome spring, "No more cold," we think, "No more sleety rain"; But sometimes old Winter turns, Mocking, back again. Then the bluebirds hide, And the buds stand still, And the flowers droop and shrink With a sudden chill, And the young vines stop Growing in the wood, Waiting patiently until He is gone for good. But when, some fine night, In a friendly throng, From the swampy places where They have slept so long Hop the frogs, and all Loudly croak together, Then there will be, we are sure, No more wintry weather; And the birds rejoice, And the buds unfold, And the sun upon the grass Lies in bars of gold. Now I'd like to know, For it's surely so, How when spring is really here Frog-folks chance to know.