Beside the path where wildflowers bloom, A hidden brook escapes the gloom. It sings of journeys through the stone, A gentle, steady, silver tone. The willow dips its leaves to hear The water’s story, crisp and clear. It tells of mountains, high and old, And valleys where the mist unfolds. A traveler pauses from his way, To let the quiet music stay. It washes dust from weary thoughts, With peace the flowing water brought. So too the heart finds in this sound, A truth that simple joys are found...
