Two Toads diverged in a greenish wood,
and sorry, I could not hold them both.
Being one amphibian lover, long I stood
and looked at one as far as I could,
to where it got squished in the undergrowth;
Then I looked at the other, just as fair.
Its skin had for sure the better claim,
because it was spotted and shaped like a pear;
The children said, "touch it", on a dare.
But they'd squished this one, too...about the same,
Now, both, that morning equally lay
in state, near the dirt I then dug, quite black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day
in the jar of formaldehyde Toadie did lay.
I doubted its life would ever come back.
I shall be dissecting this with a sigh.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two Toads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less damaged by,
The "squishing", and *that* will make all thedifference.
(posthumous apologies to Robert Frost)
