The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern,

I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern,

To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,

Or slip between the ridges,

By twenty thorpes, a little town,

And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,

In little sharps and trebles,

I bubble into eddying bays,

I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow,

And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,

With here a blossom sailing,

And here and there a lusty trout,

And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,

I slide by hazel covers;

I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.

I slip,

I slide,

I gloom,

I glance,

Among my skimming swallows;

I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses;

I linger by my shingly bars;

I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.