Playing with the Brook

We’ve been to play with the Brook today,
    The pretty little Brook that lives in the meadow,
O, Mother; he sung! & seemed to say
Things so merry they made us gay,
    And some so strange they were like a shadow,
And yet somehow as we came away
    We couldn’t remember the things he said, or
Be sure there were any words in the lay.

But there were a winking & hipping & dancing,
    And a musical laugh like cousin Fanny’s,
A wrinkling & slipping, & dripping, & glancing,
As if little fairies were dipping their hands in,
    Splashing about as the tall fisherman is;
Or spirits unseen were racing & prancing
    A down the crannies of rocks where rushing
Frolicking wanes in their merry advancing.

And O, the fun! As we started to sun
    The Shine of the sun ran along on the waters!
It was life to see when the Shine & we
All stopped & danced together in glee,
    And how she ran when we would have caught her,
As if she were fourth to our playful three,
    Our little sissie, your Aged daughter,
Whose shining robes we could hardly see!

O, Mother! I love the Brook, & look
    Far down the sky that I see there under
The quiet pool; & there is no book
That ever I took, that says such things
As the pebbly channel gaily sings,
    And the still pool thinks, as I sit & wonder!
A little nook by the Brook he mine
When I go to dance with the dancing Shine,
    Our Sister far up yonder!