A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver voice a balm to troubled mind. It speaks of ancient days and sunlit glades, Of passing years and ever-fading shades. It carries leaves on currents swift and clear, And holds the secrets of the forest dear. So listen close when next you feel alone, To hear the brook’s soft, reassuring tone.

A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver voice a balm to troubled mind. It speaks of ancient days and sunlit glades, Of passing years and ever-fading shades. It carries leaves on currents swift and clear, And holds the secrets of the forest dear. So listen close when next you feel alone, To hear the brook’s soft, reassuring tone.