The Brook – Alfred Lord Tennyson 

I come from haunts of coot and hern, 

I make a sudden sally 

And sparkle out among the fern, 

To bicker down a valley. 
By thirty hills I hurry down, 

Or slip between the ridges, 

By twenty thorpes, a little town, 

And half a hundred bridges. 
Till last by Philip’s farm I flow 

To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on for ever. 
I chatter over stony ways, 

In little sharps and trebles, 

I bubble into eddying bays, 

I babble on the pebbles. 
With many a curve my banks I fret 

By many a field and fallow, 

And many a fairy foreland set 

With willow-weed and mallow. 
I chatter, chatter, as I flow 

To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on for ever. 
I wind about, and in and out, 

With here a blossom sailing, 

And here and there a lusty trout, 

And here and there a grayling, 
And here and there a foamy flake 

Upon me, as I travel 

With many a silvery waterbreak 

Above the golden gravel, 
And draw them all along, and flow 

To join the brimming river 

For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on for ever. 
I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

I slide by hazel covers; 

I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 

Among my skimming swallows; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 

Against my sandy shallows. 
I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses; 

I linger by my shingly bars; 

I loiter round my cresses; 
And out again I curve and flow 

To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on for ever. 

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