A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe, While willows dip their leaves to taste the flow Where dragonflies in iridescent show Dart ‘tween the reeds like living jewels bright, Guarding the creek’s soft murmurs day and night. An old frog croaks from his wet throne of clay, Recalling suns of some forgotten day. The minnows school in shadows, swift and lean— A fleeting thought in water, cool and clean. No human foot disturbs this tranquil scene, ...
