Have you got a Brook in your
little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to
drink –
And shadows tremble so –
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there,
And yet your little draught
of life
Is daily drunken there –
Why, look out for the little brook
in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying
from the hills,
And the bridges often go –
little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to
drink –
And shadows tremble so –
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there,
And yet your little draught
of life
Is daily drunken there –
Why, look out for the little brook
in March,
When the rivers overflow,
And the snows come hurrying
from the hills,
And the bridges often go –
¦
And later, in August it may be,
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook
of life,
Some burning noon go dry!
When the meadows parching lie,
Beware, lest this little brook
of life,
Some burning noon go dry!
Flowers – Well — if anybody
Can the extasy define –
Half a transport – half a trouble –
With which flowers humble men:
Anybody find the fountain
From which floods so contra flow –
I will give him all the Daisies
Which opon the hillside blow.
Too much pathos in their faces
For a simple breast like mine –
Butterflies from St Domingo
Cruising round the purple line –
Have a system of aesthetics –