Little Brook On Daddy’s Farm

         

That little brook on daddy’s farm,

It never did one speck of harm;

Unless ‘twas when I slipped by chance,

And wet the fullness of my pants.

My linen pants so starched and white

Which mother fussed on late at night,

But stones of most slip’ry be,

And boys must wade in brooks you see.

That little brook on daddy’s farm,

Was but a little silver arm

Of larger brooks which danced in glee

United, to the open sea.

It called to me in merry tones,

As on it gurgled over stones;

Stones I had lifted here and there

So I could step round anywhere.

So I could walk from side to side,

E’en where ‘twas shallow, swift and wide;

And in my sweet obscurity,

It was my rill and open sea.

O, little brook on daddy’s farm,

That never did one speck of harm,

Roll on in thy sweet innocence,

On by the swinging old brush fence;

Roll on and on, for aye and aye,

Roll on forever and a day;

Thy voice a rich, melodious psalm,

O, little brook on daddy’s farm!

Jan. 20, ‘93

Pub. in Boston Courier

Oct. 14, 1894