The Brook's Message

LITTLE brook, that glideth through the meadows,
Rustling past the clumps of tufted reeds ;
Deep and quiet ’neath the alder shadows,
Swirling round the tangled water-weeds ;
Little brook, to me a happy presage
In thy steadfast pressing toward the sea.
On thy constant waves a little message,
Bear my love from me.

Seek him where those waves, grown slow and weary,
Languish through the dull streets of the town ;
Where, instead of flowers, faces dreary,
Peer into thy mirror stained and brown.
Tell him that beside thy crystal fountains,
Where the shy bird dips, and flies away,
In the purple shadows of the mountains,
Waiting him, I stay.

Tell him, little brook, — but whisper lowly,
Lest the gossip breezes hear thee tell, —
That amid this mountain silence holy,
Quiet hearts may learn love’s lesson well.
Tell him I am patient, though so lonely,
For the heavens reflect hope’s sunny hue ;
Tell him, brook, how some one loves him, — only
Do not tell him who !