"'No good?'"--said a willow tree, bending low
To kiss the rivulet, "say not so!
Daily and hourly I draw from thee
The grace and beauty that dwell with me!"
And the rustling reeds in the marge that stood
Reproachfully murmured--"'no good!--no good!'"
"'No good,' indeed!"--cried a dainty bird,
And she sprang from her nest as the sound she heard,
And fluttered her wings o'er the sorrowing stream,
While her bright plumes flashed in the morning beam.
"Peace, peace, my brook!"--and the young leaves stirred
At the gushing notes of the happy bird--
"Do you not nourish the dear beech tree
That spreads its shelter for mine and me?
You give yon wild rose its beauteous hue,--
And yonder violet its tender blue,--
And yonder willow its foliage fair,--
And yonder lily its fragrance rare!
The sun is gracious and kind, we think,
But to you, my brooklet, we come _to drink!_
His beams with glory and warmth are rife,
But you afford us _the cup of life!_
Gentle rivulet, cease to pine!--
Sing, and be happy for me and mine!"
"And me!" said the lily, "and me!"--"and me!"
Said violet, and rose-bud, and willow tree;
And rustling reeds, and the gray, old beech
Tossing his arms high out of reach,--
Fluttering insect, and waving tree,
Murmured and rustled "for me!"--"and me!"
Then the rivulet brightening, sped along,
With a freer step and a gladder song,
Through many a valley and meadow green
Making her flowery foot-prints seen,--
Deepening ever and broadening out,
Greeting the hills with a joyous shout,--
Greeting the rocks with a soft caress,
And singing still in her joy's excess,
Till her song swelled out to an anthem free,
As she caught the flash of the distant Sea--
The glorious Sea that, with answering tone,
Welcomed his guest from the hill-side lone.
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