While the water-bugs raced round and laughed at him!
Little Brook—sing a song
Of a leaf that sailed along,
Down the golden braided centre of your current swift and strong,
And a dragon-fly that lit
On the tilting rim of it,
And rode away and wasn’t scared a bit.
And sing how—oft in glee
Came a truant boy like me,
Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,