SOPHIA V. GILBERT LEE
Reading edition
THE BROOK
RIPPLE, ripple, ripple, Goes the little brook, Ripple, ripple, ripple, Backward casts no look; On through vale and woodland, And flowery meadows green, Staying not its progress To see or to be seen. Ripple, ripple, ripple, Bubbling on its way, Ripple, ripple, ripple— Hark! I hear it say: O foolish man, why dwellest thou On themes of long ago? Pass by the old, take up the new, Time's fleeting—let me go!