The Brook And The Wave

Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third

The brooklet came from the mountain, As sang the bard of old, Running with feet of silver Over the sands of gold! Far away in the briny ocean There rolled a turbulent wave, Now singing along the sea-beach, Now howling along the cave. And the brooklet has found the billow, Though they flowed so far apart, And has filled with its freshness and sweetness That turbulent, bitter heart!