Poems (Prescott)/The Brook

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4526928Poems — The BrookMary Newmarch Prescott
THE BROOK
"O, I am tired!" said the brook, complaining,
"I fain would stop a little while to rest;
The clouds would weary were they always raining;
The bird, if she forever built her nest!

"The stars withdraw from heaven and cease their shining,
The sun himself drops down into the west.
I fain would stop, " the brook kept on repining,
"And catch my breath, and be an instant blest.

"All day a voice calls, 'Follow, dearest, follow,'
And toiling on, I seek to reach the goal.
Nor pause to list to yonder happy swallow.
Telling in song the secret of his soul."

"O foolish brook!" the wind blew in replying,
"Am I not always with you on the wing?
Cease your fond mourning, cease your weary sighing,
And thank your stars for such companioning!"

The sun came up across the silver awning,
And hung a golden flame against the sky;
He dallied not to drink the dews of dawning,
And when the night fell, lo, the brook was dry!

At rest! at rest! no more of toil unceasing;
No watering of the roots of shrub or tree;
No hoarding from the rain, nor still increasing,
To lose itself, at last, within the sea!