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Hilda Conkling

Shiny Brook

Oh, shiny brook,

I watch you on your way to the sea,

And see little faces peering up

Out of the water . . .


Strange smiles and questions.

They are your pebbles sweet,

Golden with foam of the sun,

Blue with foam of the sky.

I know their way of speaking,

Of talking to each other:

I hear them telling secrets

About green moss, about fish that get lost.

And how I am sitting on a big stone

Getting my feet wet in Shiny Brook

To watch their surprising ways!