Then it was dusk in Illinois a small boy, after an afternoon of carting dung hung on a rail fence, a sapped thing weary to crying dark was growing tall he began to hear the pond frogs all calling on his ear they were calling on his ears with what seemed their joy soon the sound was pleasant for a boy listening in the smoky dusk and nightfall of illinois and from the fields two small boys came bearing cornstalk violins so they rubbed the cornstalk bows with resins and the three just sat there scraping of the joy of their joy, they're scraping of the joy it was now fine music the frogs and the boys did in the towering illinois twilight make and into dark in spite a shoulder's ache a boy's hunched body loved out of a stalk the first song of his happiness and the song woke his heart into the darkness and sadness of joy dark was growing tall he began to hear the pond frogs all calling on his ear they were calling on his ear with what seemed their joy