“BROOK! WHOSE SOCIETY THE POET SEEKS”

Brook! whose society the Poet seeks,

Intent his wasted spirits to renew;

And whom the curious Painter doth pursue

Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks,

And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks;

If wish were mine some type of thee to view,

Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do

Like Grecian Artists, give thee human cheeks,

Channels for tears; no Naiad should'st thou be,—

Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints nor hairs:

It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee

With purer robes than those of flesh and blood,

And hath bestowed on thee a safer good;

Unwearied joy, and life without its cares.