Katydid

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Little friend among the tree-tops,
Chanting low your vesper hymns,
Never tiring,
Me inspiring,
Seated ‘neath the swaying limbs
Do you know your plaintive calling,
When the summer dew is falling,
Echoes sweeter through my brain
Than any soft, harmonic strain?
~Mrs. J. I. McKinney (“Katydid”), 1887

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