On The Lost Pond

There is not much to say, from me to you

Except I can’t be to you, as if I were there all along

I do not sorrow at present at this lost truth

That I were a brother, to so many others, all along

How many there are, I know nothing of,

But I know there are a few out there on the lost pond

They want me I’m sure of it, I hear the choir of the gentle frogs

My siblings siren the song for me, to the lost pond

They hope to house me on the lily pad, with them to belong;

To my long lost, I have been lost for so long

The blustery of fate, rid memories from my pate

I do not recollect, I know not what my heart longs

To my long lost, I will be gone from you,’til the egret wake;

Bid you not come, I am feed, for the egret to stave away,

Bid you not come, I am a hill of leaves, that raked away;

I am undeserving of concern, of your love and beauty,

I do not belong on the lilies of your memory, for I fear I encroach,

That I, a heavy frog, would sink on’t before he’d think to croak

I belong, I know, I belong elsewhere,

In the presence of the low and trodden, where none—but hate—is fair