The Brook

The brook, it babbles on its way,
Through mossy banks and pebbles bright,
It sings a sweet and happy lay,
With morning's soft and gentle light.
Its waters clear, a mirror true,
Reflect the skies of azure hue,
And onward, ever fresh and new,
It flows as life itself doth do.

About Sara Teasdale

American lyric poet, known for her poems on love, nature, and the feminine experience. Her work often displays a delicate and musical quality.

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