Toad, the philosopher, perfectly still
analyzes: The Moving side
that sounds sea, climbs hill,
bounds over sky, hawk-eyed,
crosses with flames all pages
& settles down to the taste of figs
sweetly beneath th'Rages
of swash-buckling twigs:
"It's a little on the dull," cries
th'philosopher... while a mindless snake
herself barely awake
gulps down his life and sighs.