Thou brooklet, all unknown to song, br Hid in the covert of the wood! br Ah, yes, like thee I fear the throng, br Like thee I love the solitude. br br O brooklet, let my sorrows past br Lie all forgotten in their graves, br Till in my thoughts remain at last br Only thy peace, thy flowers, thy waves. br br The lily by thy margin waits;-- br The nightingale, the marguerite; br In shadow here he meditates br His nest, his love, his music sweet. br br Near thee the self-collected soul br Knows naught of error or of crime; br Thy waters, murmuring as they roll, br Transform his musings into rhyme.