The Brook

Hi guys. I PROMISE I will post on Jane Eyre soon. I've been trying to juggle a lot of small art projects on top of the big summer activities I am a part of. It's so busy. I am sure everyone is busy. I plan to be more devoted to the blog when fall comes around. We are thinking of making some changes also. So start checking more regularly when that time comes.

Here is a really pretty poem. I like it.

The Brook
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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 thorps, 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 forever.




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 comeand men may go,

But I go on forever.




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 silver water-break

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 forever.




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 forever.