A gentle stream through mossy stones did flow, Beneath the willow’s shade where wildflowers grow. It carried tales of mountains tall and deep, And secrets that the ancient rocks would keep. A traveler paused to hear its murmuring song, That spoke of journeys short and journeys long. The water laughed, then sighed with thoughtful grace, As sunlight danced upon its shimmering face. “O restless soul,” the bubbling voice did say, “Why rush beyond this sweet and cool reprieve? The distant seas whe...
