Nature’s Instrument

The brook which gurgles on its way,

     And whirls beneath the old brush fence,

Makes music in my ear to-day,

     As one of Nature’s instruments.

I seem to hear it dash along,

     Impatient at the hindering stones;

Yet leaping gayly in its song

     Of mingled joy and mono-tones.

E’en when a boy, if aught I had

     A softened sense of worldly pain,

The cadence of that brook-song glad

     Restored my happy self again.

And now above the irksome round,

     To which this noisy world gives vent,

I hear a sweet, relieving sound,

     The strain of nature’s instrument.

Oct. 1, ‘92

Pub. in Boston

Daily Traveler,

   April 24,

     1895