Alfred Lord Tennyson - Brookside Dreams

By the brook, in wooded glades,
A myriad whispers shake the leaves,
Where the light coursing through the glades
With laughter dances, and deceives.

The flowers twine their fragrant necks,
And draw us to their busy throng;
The heart gives way and gladly wrecks
To join the joyous, wild song.

So soft the flow of time can seem,
So easy life spins on a wheel;
In nature’s beauty, lost in dream,
The heart may learn to feel.