You have such a happy look -- Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook -- And your ripples, one and one, Reach each other's hands and run Like laughing little children in the sun!
Little brook, sing to me: Sing about a bumblebee That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled mumblingly, Because he wet the film Of his wings, and had to swim, While the water-bugs raced round and laughed at him!
Little brook-sing a song Of a leaf that sailed along Down the golden-braided centre of your current swift and strong, And a dragon-fly that lit On the tilting rim of it, And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
And sing -- how oft in glee Came a truant boy like me, Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody, Till the gurgle and refrain Of your music in his brain Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
Little brook-laugh and leap!
Do not let the dreamer weep: Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep; And then sing soft and low Through his dreams of long ago -- Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
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