The Ballad of Frogs and Toads
In a time of yore, the eleventh century spanned,
A land by gentle rivers, stretched 'cross verdant land.
Where willows wept and lilies decked the tranquil shore,
There lived the ancient clans of frogs and toads of lore.
In age-old harmony, these creatures dwelt in peace,
Among the bulrush beds and ponds, their sweet release.
The Frogs, with skins of emerald green, did leap and play,
While Toads, more earthen-hued, in twilight made their way.
They shared the bounty of the land and water clear,
The symphony of night was music to their ear.
Yet, in the heart of every peace, the seeds of strife,
Lay dormant, waiting for the winds to bring them life.
A tranquil riverside scene with frogs and toads in harmonious coexistence.
It came to pass that on a warm midsummer’s night,
A Toad did claim the lily pads by claimed right.
“Too long have Frogs commanded every pool and pond,
Now let the Toads arise, of whom we all are fond!”
The Frogs, aggrieved, assembled 'neath the moonlit glow,
“Shall we, then yield our homes where crystal waters flow?
Nay, rally, kin! Let not this slight our spirits damp,
We’ll not forsake our birthright to these trudging tramps!”
The moment of discord at the riverside where a toad boldly claims the lily pads.
Thus spoke the leaders, stirring warriors of both kind,
Their once-shared songs of night, now chants of war designed.
The Frog King, agile, proud, upon his reed-throne high,
Called forth the winds and waves to join them in their cry.
The Toad Sage, wise and old, with skin like mottled stone,
Summoned the earth and roots to claim the land as known.
From fen and field they came, their eyes like jeweled light,
Prepared for what may come in day’s first breaking or night’s.
The rallying of warriors from the clans of frogs and toads at the edge of a marshy pond, preparing for battle.
Upon the mirrored surface of the ancient lake,
The battle raged from golden dawn to evening's wake.
The Frogs with spear of reed and shield of lily pad,
The Toads with armor wrought from bark, their visage sad.
They clashed amidst the rushes, under arching sky,
The echo of their war cries mounting to a high.
Till waters turned to crimson, reflecting setting sun,
And none could tell if victories were lost or won.
The intense Battle of the Ponds between the frogs and toads.
When dusk had settled on the bloodied marsh and field,
Both sides beheld the cost, their fate now sealed.
The wisest among them, hearts heavy with regret,
Met 'neath a flag of truce, their eyes with sorrow wet.
“For what did we embark upon this grievous path?
Now naught remains but grief, the aftermath.
Let’s weave again the bonds that held us in good stead,
For in this war, we find we both have bled.”
The somber aftermath of the battle between frogs and toads.
So peace was wrought from the loom of pain and woe,
And once again the river’s song was free to flow.
The Frog and Toad, by twilight’s grace, did reconcile,
Their common creed writ in their shared, enduring smile.
And thus the land, by gentle rivers, 'cross verdant spread,
Remembers still the lessons of the living and the dead.
Where willows weep and lilies deck the tranquil shore,
The Frogs and Toads abide in peace, in war no more.
Renewed peace and unity between the frogs and toads.
Images created with NightCafe.
