“Tree-toad is a small gray person With a silver voice. Tree-toad is a leaf-gray shadow That sings. Tree-toad is never seen Unless a star squeezes through the leaves, Or a moth looks sharply at a gray branch. How would it be, I wonder, To sing patiently all night, Never thinking that people are asleep? Raindrops and mist, starriness over the trees, The moon, the dew, the other little singers, Cricket ... toad ... leaf rustling.... They would listen: It would be music like weather That gets into all the corners Of out-of-doors.
Every night I see little shadows I never saw before. Every night I hear little voices I never heard before. When night comes trailing her starry cloak, I start out for slumberland, With tree-toads calling along the roadside. Good-night, I say to one, Good-by, I say to another, I hope to find you on the way We have traveled before! I hope to hear you singing on the Road of Dreams!”