THE BROOK AND THE BIRD

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!