At The Diggings, After Work (1851)
Tributum est a natura omni generi animantium, ut se vitam corpusque tueatur, ut declinet ea que videntur nocitura, et inquirat ac paret omnia que sint ad vivendum necessaria.
The night was warm, the pool was still,No sound was heard from lake or hill,
Save where, upon a log decay'd,
A bull-frog croak'd his serenade. Wake, frogess of my love, awake,
And listen to my song ;
The heron roosts far from the lake,
The pickerel his rest doth take,
The water weeds among. The sun has put his fire out ;
The daylight's hardly seen ;
No enemy is round about,
Then, frogess, poke thy lovely snout
Above the waters green. For lonely I am sitting here,
Upon a rotten log ;
Oh, cast away all idle fear,
And for a moment sweetly cheer
The sight of thy bull-frog. Oh, hop with me to other pools,
Where we may live in love ;
Where no rude wind the warm lake cools,
And where do dwell no human fools--
Those two-legged things above. Q. Anderson's Creek, November 7th, 1851. Notes From the Victorian Newspaper The Argus 12 Nov 1851 p. 4.