
A speaker addresses a brook hidden in the woods, sharing its solitude and asking that past sorrows give way to its peace, flowers, and waves. The brook turns contemplation into rhyme, and the speaker longs to follow its course on autumn evenings, hearing leaves and the lapwing’s cry.
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow · Genre: Nature Poetry, Lyric Poetry, Meditative Poetry · 202 words
By Jean Francois Ducis
Thou brooklet, all unknown to song, / Hid in the covert of the wood! / Ah, yes, like thee I fear the throng, / Like thee I love the solitude.
O brooklet, let my sorrows past / Lie all forgotten in their graves, / Till in my thoughts remain at last / Only thy peace, thy flowers, thy waves.
The lily by thy margin waits; -- / The nightingale, the marguerite; / In shadow here he meditates / His nest, his love, his music sweet.
brooks · solitude · sorrow · contemplation · birdsong · autumn
To my Brooklet is listed on Textopian as a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, dated Date unknown.
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