Dogwood blossoms fleck the brook Where the branches lean to look At the golden ripples weaving Shimmering tapestry on stones. Then, with soft, ecstatic moans, The brook leaps down a mossy ledge; Forget-me-nots grow at its edge; Water-cresses crowd in, leaving No open water for a space; Trout dart out and swiftly race To hide among the roots that lace The hidden current. Then again The stream descends a tiny glen Into a pool, once bridged by men. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES IV, 7. TO TORQUATUS. DIFFUGERE NIVES by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS LOUSE HUNTING by ISAAC ROSENBERG EPIPSYCHIDION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SONG FOR DECORATION DAY by HELEN C. BACON THE SPOUSE TO THE BELOVED by WILLIAM BALDWIN A PEASANT WOMAN'S SONG by DION BOUCICAULT THE REED by HENRY BERNARD CARPENTER |