In the golden noon-shine,
Or in the pink of dawn;
In the silver moonshine,
Or when the moon is gone;
Open eyes, or drowsy lids,
’Wake or ’most asleep,
I can hear the katydids,—
“Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!”
Only in the winter-time
Do they ever stop,
In the chip-and-splinter-time,
When the backlogs pop,—
Then it is, the kettle-lids,
While the sparkles leap,
Lisp like the katydids,—
“Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!”