The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe. It tells of mountains where the eagles nest, Of cloud-kissed peaks in everlasting rest. A leaf, a small and amber-colored boat, Upon its crystal surface learns to float. It carries secrets from the ancient wood, Of sunlit clearings where the wild deer stood. The water writes a story on the shore, A timeless tale that speaks for evermore. It flows beyond the forest, deep and dim, To join the river, vast ...
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe. It tells of mountains where the eagles nest, Of cloud-kissed peaks in everlasting rest. A leaf, a small and amber-colored boat, Upon its crystal surface learns to float. It carries secrets from the ancient wood, Of sunlit clearings where the wild deer stood. The water writes a story on the shore, A timeless tale that speaks for evermore. It flows beyond the forest, deep and dim, To join the river, vast ...
