I KNOW a brook that winds its way along A dull and stony margin --dwarfish trees And barren vegetation mark its course. The stern, bold grandeur of the granite rock Frowns not upon it-- and the smooth, green lawn Slopes not to meet it. Nothing there is seen Save one pure limpid spring, perennial, That oozes from the rock and from the moss. There, all that flourishes of bright and green Is clustered, there the freshest of the grass Laves in the welling rill. No man would think In such a cold and barren spot, to find Any thing sweet, or pure, or beautiful; But yet, I say, it is the loveliest gush --'T is so sequestered, and so arboured o'er With nature's wildness in its summer glow -- The loveliest gush that ever spouted out Upon my wandering path. Through mud and mire, O'er many a bramble, many a jagged shoot I stumbled, ere I found it. There I placed A frail memorial-- that, when again I should revisit it, the thought might come Of the dull tide of life, and that pure spring Which he who drinks of never shall thirst more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTLEY: THE GHOST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE MAD MAID'S SONG by ROBERT HERRICK THOSE EVENING BELLS by THOMAS MOORE TO A DOG by JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY VERSES FROM THE 'ANNALIA DUBRENSIA' by WILLIAM BASSE SONG, FR. THE LOVER'S PROGRESS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT |