THE BROOK

    BY ALFRED TENNISON.

    I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.

    By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.

    Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river； For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.

    I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles； I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles.

    With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.

    I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river； For men may come； and men may go, But I go on forever. I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling,

    And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel, With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel,

    And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river； For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.

    I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers； I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.

    I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows； I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.

    I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses； I linger by my shingly bars, I loiter round my cresses；

    And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river； For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.