Brook, happy brook, that glidest through my dell; That trippest with soft feet across the mead; That, laughing on, a mazy course dost lead, O'er pebble beds, and reeds, and rushy swell; Go by that cottage where my love doth dwell. Ripple thy sweetest ripple, sing the best Of melodies thou hast; lull her to rest With such sweet tales as thou dost...Learn More