Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection)/Song of the Brook

by Clarence Hawkes

SONG OF THE BROOK

I come from afar up the mountain,
 The favorite child of the snow;
I leap from a laughing wee fountain,
 And fall in a basin below.

By churning and boiling and gushing,
 I pierce through a dark mountain wall,
And into the sunlight come rushing,
 To fling far a beautiful fall.

Now down a long stairway for giants,
 From basin to basin I spring;
All foaming, and roaring defiance,
 My spray to the breezes I fling.

Then into a peaceful green meadow
 I lazily, placidly flow,
And thence to the woodlands' dark shadow
 With laughter and dancing I go.

I sparkle and bubble with pleasure,
 As over the pebbles I slide;
I murmur a musical measure
 As under the willows I glide.

In springtime I water the flowers
 That nod their sweet faces to me;
In summer I drink up the showers,
 And hurry them off to the sea.

When Autumn's rich beauties are dying—
 Then sadly I murmur my lay;
When o'er me the snow bank is lying,
 I gurgle the winter away.

I ripple, I dimple, I bubble—
 I chatter by day and by night.—
My laughter will banish your trouble,
 My song is a giver's delight.

Don't stop me to idle or dally,
 My life-work is ever to flow;
The meadow, the mill-wheel and valley,
 Are waiting to greet me below.

I pause not in lakelet or river,
 I rest not in woodland or lea,
Still onward and onward forever
 I flow to the boundless blue sea.