That rippled past my shady seat;
Now far, now near, now vague, now clear,
The music of its liquid feet.
Few tones the slender rillet has has—
That few how sweet, how soothing sweet!
A live delight, by day, by night,
The music of its liquid feet!
While there I mused, a songbird lit
And swung above my shady seat:
He heard the brook, and straightway took