Flight the Third. The Brook and the Wave

THE BROOKLET came from the mountain,

As sang the bard of old,

Running with feet of silver

Over the sands of gold!

Far away in the briny ocean

There rolled a turbulent wave,

Now singing along the sea-beach,

Now howling along the cave.

And the brooklet has found the billow,

Though they flowed so far apart,

And has filled with its freshness and sweetness

That turbulent, bitter heart!