XVIII The Woodpecker
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree, —
A worm his utmost goal.
XIX A Snake
Sweet is the swamp with its secrets,
Until we meet a snake;
’T is then we sigh for houses,
And our departure take
At that enthralling gallop
That only childhood knows.
A snake is summer’s treason,
And guile is where it goes.