A babbling brooklet wends its happy way
Adown a rocky path across the plain.
And goes a-galloping along in rain.
In drought he stops and waits a lucky day,
When clouds roll up and men and women pray,
And withered is the corn and grasses and grain.
The dust clings thick on every sill and pane.
A shower soon refreshes loam and clay.
The little stream resumes its cheerful hymn.
It warbles on content to sing and flow,
The music lilts and swells in happy glee;
And too, the birds and bees join in with vim,
Harmonious, alive, in twilight glow
A mighty choir of gorgeous melody!




IF YOU HEAR


If you hear the scoff of friends,
Or see their anger grow,
Just please remember this,
Perhaps they do not know.