A gentle stream through mossy stones does glide, Reflecting clouds that in its bosom sleep. It tells of journeys from the mountain side, Where icy peaks their stony vigil keep. It murmurs tales to thirsty flowers near, Of how the snow surrendered to the sun, How silver droplets learned to disappear, And new adventures had but just begun. The willow dips its leaves to hear the song, While dragonflies above in circles play. This liquid thread where all things do belong, F...

A gentle stream through mossy stones does glide, Reflecting clouds that in its bosom sleep. It tells of journeys from the mountain side, Where icy peaks their stony vigil keep. It murmurs tales to thirsty flowers near, Of how the snow surrendered to the sun, How silver droplets learned to disappear, And new adventures had but just begun. The willow dips its leaves to hear the song, While dragonflies above in circles play. This liquid thread where all things do belong, F...