William Henry Burleigh (1812–1871)

“LIKE thee, O stream! to glide in solitude

Noiselessly on, reflecting sun or star,

Unseen by man, and from the great world’s jar

Kept evermore aloof; methinks ’t were good

To live thus lonely through the silent lapse

Of my appointed time.” Not wisely said,

Unthinking Quietest! The brook hath sped

Its course for ages through the narrow gaps

Of rifted hills and o’er the reedy plain,

Or ’mid the eternal forests, not in vain;

The grass more greenly groweth on its brink,

And lovelier flowers and richer fruits are there,

And of its crystal waters myriads drink

That else would faint beneath the torrid air.