A gentle stream through mossy stones did glide, Beneath the willow’s gracefully bowed shade. It murmured tales of journeys far and wide, Of mountain peaks and sunlit glades it made. Two children sat upon its grassy edge, Their tiny hands would skim the water’s flow. They built a little boat from river sedge, And watched as off to unknown lands ‘twould go. The brook sang on of seasons turning slow, Of winter’s frost and spring’s renewing rain. It taught them how all things both come and go, Ye...

A gentle stream through mossy stones did glide, Beneath the willow’s gracefully bowed shade. It murmured tales of journeys far and wide, Of mountain peaks and sunlit glades it made. Two children sat upon its grassy edge, Their tiny hands would skim the water’s flow. They built a little boat from river sedge, And watched as off to unknown lands ‘twould go. The brook sang on of seasons turning slow, Of winter’s frost and spring’s renewing rain. It taught them how all things both come and go, Ye...