Over and over she turned.
Down, down, down, she fell.
She was so afraid the wind would carry her away.
But the friendly stream leaped up the rocks to meet her.
It bore her away, swiftly but gently.
The little leaf was afraid. She was lonesome.
The dear little “water leaves” were nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t be afraid, little leaf,” murmured the kind brook.
“I will give you a fine ride.