Ah, my little brook! how foolish was my thought:
All the praises of the worldling can disturb you naught.
Nothing can mislead you, or set you ill at ease,
Make you think about yourself, or of the way
to please.
Not a little fish could have made such a speech,
Not a shining fly that skims along your beach,
Not a little bird would have said such a thing—
Pardon me my foolishness, and sing again, sing!