It seemed aspiring for the sky.
Just at the basement of the hill,
A modest little purling rill
Shone like a mirror in the sun,—
Flashing and sparkling as it run.
The lofty oak scarce deigned to look
Upon the little murm'ring brook,
But tossed his head in proud disdain,
And thus began his boasting strain:—
"I've lived almost since time began,