I listened to a summer brook
That rippled past my shady seat;
Now far, now near, now vague, now clear,
The music of its liquid feet.
Few tones the slender rillet has has—
That few how sweet, how soothing sweet!
A live delight, by day, by night,
The music of its liquid feet!
While there I mused, a songbird lit
And swung above my shady seat:
He heard the brook, and straightway took
The music of its liquid feet!
A bird's bright glance on me he bent,—
A bird's glance, fearless yet discreet;
As who might say, "This roundelay
Of liquid joy I can repeat!"
The mimic carol done, once more
He needs must try its measures sweet;—
Again, again, that rippling strain
My songbird did repeat, repeat!
Since then I've learned that human breasts
To few and simple measures beat;
O blessed bird, my heart-warm word
I, too, repeat, repeat, repeat!