[SONG OF THE BROOK.]
ALFRED TENNYSON.
By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.
I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles; I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles.
I chatter, chatter as I flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance, Against my sandy shallows.
I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses.
And out again I curve and flow, To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.