Beside the mossy stones, the brook does flow, A silver thread through emerald fields it weaves. It murmurs secrets to the willows low, And quenches thirsty roots of ancient leaves. The moon above casts pearls upon its face, While fireflies dance to its gentle song. It journeys on with calm and steady pace, Through nights so short and days so long. Though storms may come and winds may blow with rage, Its course remains, unbroken through the age. It teaches patience to the restless soul, That t...

Beside the mossy stones, the brook does flow, A silver thread through emerald fields it weaves. It murmurs secrets to the willows low, And quenches thirsty roots of ancient leaves. The moon above casts pearls upon its face, While fireflies dance to its gentle song. It journeys on with calm and steady pace, Through nights so short and days so long. Though storms may come and winds may blow with rage, Its course remains, unbroken through the age. It teaches patience to the restless soul, That t...