Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?
~Oliver Wendell Holmes
The night did not frighten even though far out into the country on a lonely gravel road......the black sky, filled with stars; the breeze, cool; the sound of katydids to lull me to sleep.
To A Katydid
Little friend among the tree-tops
Chanting low your vesper hymns,
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?