Poems (David)/The Brook, Cleeve Hill, Gloucestershire

by Edith Mary David

THE BROOK, CLEEVE HILL,

 

GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

DEEPLY down in the.mossy dell,
 Sparkling and clear in the quiet cell;
Babbling thus so soft and clear,
 Bright as maiden's new falling tear!
Murmuring on thy peaceful way,
 Glistening on the fair noon-day.

Hidden midst thy fern clad nook
 Art thou, oh! pure and fairy brook;
Soft as the cushat's spangled wing,
 Thou, my fresh and silvery spring,
Modest too the gentle gleam
 In the sunset's fiery beam!

Nature's hand hath placed thee here,
 T'outvie the throstle's voice so clear,
Thy rippling music so lovingly heard,
 As the true rival of the forest bird;
In the young poet's vision so free,
 There's not a charm to equal thee!

The tears of heaven gave thee birth
 To gladden the parched and weary earth;
Nature smiles on thee, my brook,
 Rains blessings on the quiet nook,
Love thy broken hilarious lay,
 Where I wander here to day!

Dancing down by the woodland hoar,
 Bearing their fallen leaves before,
Of the frail trembling aspen pale,
 Ere barren to the wintry gale,
Her naked arms, alas! she throws,
 Casting their one quivering burden low!

Singing, bounding o'er pebbles and stones,
 Laughing, ye leave thy tree cover'd home;
Though ye quit the woods awhile!
 The children love the streamlet's smile
When wandering thro the sunny leas
 Better than 'midst the hoary trees.

Swiftly down by the old green lane,
 Yet shall I meet you once again,
Babbling thus thy wild gentle lay;
 Sport but awhile this sunny day,
To the flowers now lingering here;
 Winters' chilly blast is near!

By the lichen'd homstead we must meet,
 Rippling and gleaming at my feet
Clear and so cool ye revel on,
 A flashing gleam and ye are gone
Through the lovely ferny nook,
 Vanish'd in yon hedge my brook!