Explore "The Brook" by Théophile Gautier on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Near a great water's waste / A brook mid rock and spar / Came bubbling up in haste, / As though to travel far.
It sang: "What joy to rise! / 'T was dismal under ground. / I mirror now the skies. / My banks with green abound.
"Forget-me-nots -- how fair! / Beseech me from the grass; / Wings frolic in the air, / And graze me as they pass.
"I yet shall be -- who knows? -- / A river winding down, / And greeting as it flows / Valley and cliff and town.
"I'll broider with my spray / Stone bridge and granite quay, / And bear great ships away / Unto the long wide sea."
So planned it, babbling by, / As water boiling fast / Within a basin high, / To top its brim at last.
Cradle by tomb is crossed. / Giants are early dead. / Scarce born, the brook was lost / Within a lake's deep bed.