The Whispering Brook
<The Whispering Brook> A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its murmuring song a balm to every care. It tells of ancient pines and twilight air, Of journeys to the sea it must achieve. The moon above, a silent, watchful friend, Casts silver patterns on the water's flow. This quiet truth the brook has come to know: That every start must find a destined end. Yet onward moves the water, clear and deep, Carving its path with patience, strong and sure. A timeless lesson, beautiful and ...
The Whispering Brook
<The Whispering Brook> A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its murmuring song a balm to every care. It tells of ancient pines and twilight air, Of journeys to the sea it must achieve. The moon above, a silent, watchful friend, Casts silver patterns on the water's flow. This quiet truth the brook has come to know: That every start must find a destined end. Yet onward moves the water, clear and deep, Carving its path with patience, strong and sure. A timeless lesson, beautiful and ...
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream through mossy stones does glide, Reflecting clouds that in its bosom sleep; No worldly clamors dare to interrupt its tide, While ancient pines their solemn vigil keep. A heron stands in stillness, silver-gray, As maple leaves descend in crimson flight; The moon will grace these waters come the night To weave a dream of never-fading day. Thus flows the stream with soft, enduring song— A timeless tale where peace and grace belong.
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream through mossy stones does glide, Reflecting clouds that in its bosom sleep; No worldly clamors dare to interrupt its tide, While ancient pines their solemn vigil keep. A heron stands in stillness, silver-gray, As maple leaves descend in crimson flight; The moon will grace these waters come the night To weave a dream of never-fading day. Thus flows the stream with soft, enduring song— A timeless tale where peace and grace belong.
