Ode to that Bespied on Icy Shore one Soft Spring's Morn Part 1

Thou bloated frog on water's edge
So lodged in the earthen grime
Twixt life and pond and shore and death,
How moving is thy simple fate?
How stirring is thy majesty?
- Unmitigated corpulence! -
They mottled flesh in nauseous grace,
Sublime in putrid, rotting mien,
As to a sunbeam bent and long,
Diurnal, blinding, quantum flash,
Recalls those days
- How long ago? -
I heard thy wretched croaking cease
By more each languid, passing hour.
Recall'st thou how thy bathing pond,
Thy home and pool became thy grave?
How, like a maiden, thin and pale,
Traversest slow the hallowed shrine,
In fluid grace
- With sacred song -
So too thou pass'st to thy shrine?
By worms upkept?
By flies adored
And deified?