Have you Got a Brook in your Little Heart

Have you got a brook in your little heart, / Where bashful flowers blow, / And blushing birds go down to drink, / And shadows tremble so?

And nobody knows, so still it flows, / That any brook is there; / And yet your little draught of life / Is daily drunken there.

Then look out for the little brook in March, / When the rivers overflow, / And the snows come hurrying from the hills, / And the bridges often go.

And later, in August it may be, / When the meadows parching lie, / Beware, lest this little brook of life / Some burning noon go dry!