A babbling brook flows through the forest deep, Its gentle murmur lulling rocks to sleep. Silver fish dart ‘neath the crystal tide, As ancient trees watch from the side. A traveler pauses, weary from the road, To rest his soul and lighten sorrow’s load. He drinks the water, cool and clear and sweet, And finds new strength in nature’s calm retreat. The brook sings on of times both old and new, Of morning dew and evening’s golden hue. It whispers tales no human ear has heard, A timeless, flowin...
