All day she tramps the meadow grass,
And browses on the hill,
She seems to like the clover best,
While wand’ring at her will.
Moo! moo! she always seems to say,
She never minds the showers,
We children love to hear her low,
Thru all the pleasant hours.
ODE TO A BROOK
I wish I were a stream, O brook!
If but for a single day,
Then would we wander on and on,
While rippling a roundelay.
I wish I were a stream, O brook!
Just to sense all you would say,
Then could we wander on and on,
Still babbling along our way.
I wish I were a stream, O brook!
Each forest-flower I’d know,
Like wild birds we’d sail on and on,
Joyfully prattling we’d go.
I wish I were a stream, O brook!
We’d wind thru lane and lea,
Playfully gurgling on and on,
Till at last we’d reach the sea.