And were my love a brooklet cold, and sprang out of a stone, little should I grieve if I were but a green wood; green is the wood, the brooklet is cold, my love is shapely.
Sweet woodland music sinks and swells, The brooklet rings its tinkling bells, The swarming insects drone and hum, The partridge beats its throbbing drum.
She came with all the eagerness and spring of the brooklet that danced beside her, her cheeks glowing with health and filled with the laughter of the morning.
The brooklet struck up the measure again, and the wind shook the trees far above them, to tell that it was still awake, and the girl was the very spirit of the springtime once more.
Yonder copse shades a narrow glen whose braes border a brooklet winding and chattering on its way to the lake; this glen was a summer haunt of Hawthorne, where he doubtless pondered much of his work.
The curiosity of the Brooklet was aroused to know what he could mean, when presently she saw him sit upon the rock, and from the stick drop down upon her face a worm, which when the fishes saw they darted out to eat.
How theBrooklet was born; and lodged; and wandered off one rainy day.
Following in the train of the ambitious Brooklet had been a score of fishes, which, frightened by the leap upon the jagged rocks, had staid behind with the timid wanderer, until they became part of her family in the new retreat.
The wandering Brookletlooked fearfully around, and saw indeed that the log she had leaped was now fast fading away, and felt that her strength became less and less as the ambitious Brooklet clung closer to her side.
Overlooking, and enjoying the gambols of these fish, the discontented Brooklet often amused herself.
The Brooklet had thus run on until she saw the country spot so wide and green was well passed over, and trees and bushes, darker and thicker than she had ever known before, were close at hand.
The dropping of the water from the rocks above her new abode, was cold and grateful to the Brooklet in her fevered state.
How the Brooklet lived on in her new quarters; and how misfortune made her discontented.
So waiting for the ambitious Brooklet to get far out of sight, she collected all her strength for a jump into the bowl, where the drops came sparkling in.
There was once a Brooklet born of a modest spring that circled through a smiling meadow.
They tell us that the valley, with its deep sides and wide opening to the sky, may have been made by the slow operation of a tiny brooklet that trickles now down at its base, and by erosion of the atmosphere.
A mountain road has generally a living brooklet leaping and flashing by the side of it.
I look till the fields and brooklet Swim like a vision by, And a room in a lowly dwelling Lies clear before my eye.
And I peer into the shadows, Till they seem to pass away, And the fields and their tiny brooklet Lie clear in the light of day.
He bent his steps by the side of the brooklet that curved, snakelike and sparkling, by Montreal's tent; and finding a spot somewhat solitary and apart from the warlike tenements around, flung himself by the margin of the stream.
A brooklet from the stream they had crossed murmured gratefully on the ear, and a tall and wide-spreading beech cast its shadow over the gorgeous canvass.
The blue eyes were wet now, frankly wet, bluebells by a mountain brook--the little bursting brooklet of feeling within.
Children straying Came a-playing On its pretty banks; Glad, our little brooklet Sparkled up its thanks.
Down through stones, through mosses flowing, See the brook and brooklet springing.
At first thy passion came bounding and rushing Like a brooklet o'erflowing with melted snow and rain; Into her heart thou hast poured it gushing: And now thy brooklet's dry again.
And after it had thought the matter over for a hundred years or two it sent a little brooklet down to find out.
Walter sauntered across the rich and fragrant fields, and came soon into a sheltered valley, through which the brooklet wound its shadowy way.
It was quite still; but he stayed, and the faint song of the brooklet sounded like the echo of a river beyond the mountains.
Nevermore she saw again her native land, Nevermore the forest pathways felt her footstep, Nor the brooklet nor the wigwam heard her singing.
And the thrush sings loudly On the hawthorn spray, And the brooklet ever Makes music on its way.
Drinking from the brooklet 'Neath the hawthorn tree, Clear it runs as crystal, Fresh and bright and free.
Paled in by many a lofty hill, The narrow dale lay smooth and still, And, down its verdant bosom led, A winding brooklet found its bed.
One day she was sleeping naked under the shrubs, the boys round about her; on the moss lay her crown and her veil, and the brooklet flowed on, gently murmuring.
So I came now, O Psyche, and then I espied a brooklet meandering through the sand.
She saw the desert, without an oasis, only the brooklet of tears that meandered far away from whence she had come.
Here the road was bad, almost like a stony and burr-strewn path, with neither bridge nor plank to help them over brooklet and rivulet.
I wonder how the little brooklet that runs by our house is getting on?
