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