The little brook that murmurs low,
And steals along the glade,
Can fill the heart of those who know
The beauty nature made.

Its secrets dance with every turn,
And shimmer through the trees;
Where lily pads in water churn,
Embrace the sleepy bees.

Oh, let me muse and linger long
To hear its endless tone;
The charm of brook, the spirit’s song,
Will turn my heart to home.

• Joyce Kilmer