The Brook

From a fountain

In a mountain,

Drops of water ran

Trickling through the grasses;

So our brook began.

Slow it started;

Soon it darted,

Cool and clear and free,

Rippling over pebbles,

Hurrying to the sea.

Children straying

Came a-playing

On its pretty banks;

Glad, our little brooklet

Sparkled up its thanks.

Blossoms floating,

Mimic boating,

Fishes darting past,

Swift, and strong, and happy,

Widening very fast.

Bubbling, singing,

Rushing, ringing,

Flecked with shade and sun.

Soon our pretty brooklet

To the sea has run.